


A Hierarchy of Gestures

by MechBull



Category: Breakfast with Scot (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: “How did you and Sam meet?” “When I got injured, he took care of me.”It was a little more complicated than that.
Relationships: Eric McNally/Sam Miller
Comments: 26
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This gets up to high mature/low explicit but most of the time is pretty low-rated.
> 
> 2\. Some of the characterization here might feel off, but I think pre-canon and especially pre-injury, I could play around with both of them. I read pretty much all the fic here on AO3, and I know I stole bits and pieces of things that fit brilliantly with what we know, so shout out to those writers. 
> 
> 3\. I have not done anywhere near enough research on hockey, sports, law, Toronto, shoulder fractures, etc. I have done…some and the rest is hand-waving, vaguely plausible bullshit to make the story go how I want to. This is fanfiction, people, not a documentary.

Walking into the arena, Sam steeled himself even as he felt vaguely like he was getting hives. It wasn’t that he hated hockey, exactly. He’d been known to turn a game or two on for background noise, and like any true Canadian boy, he’d learned to skate a bit before everyone agreed that he was not about to set any world records and he was allowed to pursue other interests instead. It was more that he had an aversion to hockey _players_. All types of jocks, really. Throughout school, even college, they had been the ones to call him names, beat him up. And yet, when their friends were nowhere to be found, more than one oh-so-cool, oh-so-macho athlete had come on to Sam, threatening him with payback if he said anything about the way they reached their hands down his pants. Sam had lost his virginity to a forward on the high school team, then got slammed into his locker by the same guy the next day for no apparent reason. It was around that time that Sam made some hard and fast rules about his sex life. 

It was perhaps the greatest irony of his life that he ended up a sports lawyer. But he liked the job and he liked the way it made his dad brag and he liked having power over the Neanderthals that were dependent on him to actually understand the words in their contracts and their sponsorship deals that gave Sam a healthy percentage of everything they ever earned. 

Bitter? Not at all. But he admitted that he preferred to stick to things like tennis or something. And then he was assigned the Leafs. The fricking Leafs. It was too good an account to pass up, but walking into that arena, he felt exactly like he did so many years ago, when he couldn’t stand those cocky assholes and couldn’t stay away. 

“Which one are we meeting today?” he asked the guy from the Player’s Association, trying to focus and be professional.

“McNally.”

Sam closed his eyes briefly, opening his mental picture of the team roster he memorized after accepting the account. Eric. According to more than one news story, a scrappy fighter. 

“Eric?”

“Yeah. Don’t let his reputation fool you.”

“I don’t really know much about him at all.”

Ted looked at him. “You don’t?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t really follow hockey,” he confessed. 

Ted stared at him a moment longer, blinking in slight disbelief, then shrugged. “Right. Hometown kid. Better fighter than player, but still pretty skilled. Getting older, so this might be his last contract. Both sides want a deal, so it should be smooth enough.”

Sam nodded, secretly relieved that he apparently would have an easy go on his first negotiation with the team. But he tensed again as they walked into the rink itself. The team was still there, having a practice or something. A couple dozen guys in full uniform skating back and forth as fast as they could. Just as they started walking down the steps to ice level, the trainer blew a whistle and the players slowed to a more relaxed speed as they started to file one-by-one off the ice and back towards the locker room. 

Ted shouted out unexpectedly, and Sam moved his head away from the sound, grimacing slightly.

“McNally!”

One player turned, caught sight of them, and headed away from the others. He turned slightly right in front of them, kicking up a small shower of shaved ice. As he came to a stop, Sam swallowed. 

He had the bluest damn eyes. 

And he was using them to look at Sam with a steady, rather intoxicating – 

“This is Sam Miller,” Ted said, gesturing at him. “The new lawyer.”

Sam reached out, waiting somewhat awkwardly as McNally pulled off one glove and stuck it under his other arm. They shook hands, and Sam tried not to notice the warm skin and rough calluses. He definitely tried not to notice the bead of sweat separating from McNally’s damp-dark, matted-down hair and rolling slowly down his temple.

He kind of wanted to lick it. 

Sam held on perhaps a little bit too long, and he could feel the blush rise to his cheeks when he finally remembered to drop McNally’s hand. In the background, he could hear Ted say something about just wanting to let him know they were there and how they’d set up in the office while McNally changed. And that, predictably, just got Sam thinking about what McNally looked like underneath all that padding. 

Holy hell, he was a professional. Sam shook his head and focused again. He noticed that Ted by then had started to head back out. He should follow, but he couldn’t quite move yet.

“Nice to meet you,” he finally managed to say. 

McNally nodded, smiling somewhat knowingly. “You too. You ever do one of these contracts before?”

“I’ve tried not to think too much about hockey, honestly,” Sam said before he could stop himself. And then that blush really came flooding across his face.

But McNally just barked a laugh. “That doesn’t bode well for me.”

Sam nodded, eyes closing for a moment. “I know the terms of your contracts. I don’t need to know about – ” he paused, gesturing at the stick in McNally’s hand and admittedly playing it up a bit. “Clubs.”

“Sticks. Clubs are teams.”

“Whatever.”

McNally laughed again, this time loud enough to echo in the empty arena. He had a nice smile, with deep dimples that Sam wanted to – 

_Shit._

“And no,” McNally continued, skating backwards to maintain eye contact even as he headed towards the entrance to the locker room. “I just meant that I’ll actually have to work to impress you.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s not something you’re used to,” he observed dryly. 

McNally grinned, and Sam had to admit they were actually flirting with each other. Unexpected but not exactly surprising, after all these years. He reminded himself of the rules he hadn’t broken in a long time and wasn’t about to break now. Not for someone who thought putting on skates and punching people was an actual job for an adult. 

“I’m up to the challenge,” McNally tossed out, before turning and putting on a burst of speed. 

Sam watched him for a moment, then turned away. On one hand, he was relieved to see Ted waiting by the door, so he didn’t have to try to find the office himself. On the other hand, he hoped he hadn’t heard their conversation. But he couldn’t worry about that right now. He had to worry about making it through this meeting without making a fool of himself.

**

Eric cleared his throat, looking down at the floor as he smoothed a hand over his shirt. He typically wore a suit when meeting with the, well, suits, but this time he didn’t want to seem like he was trying too hard. So, he skipped the tie and jacket, but carefully chose a blue shirt that he’d been told really worked with his eyes and some tailored pants that he’d been told really worked with his ass.

The point was to _look_ like he wasn’t trying too hard, after all. Which meant he put more thought into his clothes than he had for a long time. 

The elevator door opened and he stepped out into the lobby. The reception desk was just in front, and he crossed the distance in only a few steps. 

“Hi,” he said, aiming for casual even as some unexpected butterflies started to flutter around his belly. This was ridiculous. “I’m here to see Sam Miller.”

“Hi!” The receptionist smiled widely at him, the way she always did the rare times he had to come into the office. He’d been at the receiving end of those kinds of smiles far too many times, and he knew it was more than just exaggerated friendliness for the client. But he ignored it as usual, nodding in acknowledgment as she added, “Great game last night.”

And then he looked away, putting his hands in his pockets and waiting for her to get the message. With a small sigh, she picked up the phone and, moments later, spoke quietly into it. 

“Eric McNally is here… OK.” She hung up the phone, stood and walked to the side of the desk, gesturing him forward. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks.” 

She wasn’t able to attempt any more conversation, though, as she turned a corner and slowed to a stop. Sam was waiting by the office door and Eric grasped at his composure at the unexpectedly early sight of him. 

“Hi, Eric. Something to drink?”

“No,” he replied, laughing slightly at basically repeating himself. “Thanks.”

“Come in,” Sam said then, twisting to allow Eric to enter. He wondered if it was intentional that Sam stayed in the doorway just enough to force him to brush against him as he walked past. “Thanks, Kara,” he said rather pointedly, and Eric heard the receptionist’s shoes click on the floor as she left them.

Eric suppressed a smile, not turning until he heard the door close. Sam was closer than he expected, and he gave Eric a nod before stepping closer.

“Ah, good game last night,” he said, before punching Eric awkwardly on the shoulder.

He turned away immediately, and Eric pivoted on his feet to watch as Sam walked to his desk. It was hard to see from behind, but it looked like Sam lifted a hand to his face and scrubbed at it. He just barely shook his head, and Eric raised a curious eyebrow.

“Thanks. You watched?”

“Well,” Sam replied, with a self-deprecating laugh. He started to sit at his desk, and gestured that Eric should take the seat opposite. “I thought I should probably learn enough for some basic conversation.”

“Fair enough,” Eric said, stepping forward and taking the seat. “More importantly…is that really how you make a fist?”

Sam stared at him, clearly a bit confused, before looking at his hand and laughing. He lifted the hand to run it through his hair. It took all of Eric’s willpower not to grin. 

“Never been in a fight in my life,” Sam said, before tilting his head quickly. “Well, I got beat up all through school, but I never managed to get a hit in.”

He couldn’t stop the grin then. “I’ll have to teach you some moves.”

Sam stared back, eyes just wide enough to let Eric know he heard the underlying innuendo. Then, he inhaled sharply and looked at the papers in front of him. 

“I’m sure you know this process by now. We’ll go over the team’s offer, and if you’re fine with it, then you can sign now. If not, we’ll go back to them.”

“What do you think of the offer?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s good. Better than your last one.”

“But?”

“I could probably get you more.”

“OK, lay it out for me,” Eric said, leaning forward. 

Sam had been right. It was a good contract. Under other circumstances, Eric probably would have signed it at once. But, well, as soon as he signed it, he didn’t really have a reason to see Sam again any time soon.

**

A trickle rolled down his back. Eric told himself that it was sweat from the practice, or water from the shower he took after it. Whatever it was, it was _definitely_ not because of Sam standing in the corner, looking sharp in a black suit. He bent over the desk, signing the contract before placing the pen down. He straightened, reaching out to shake hands with the GM and coach. After a few more pleasantries, he left the office, leading Sam out.

They walked down the hall, eventually slowing to a stop around the corner. Eric turned to face Sam, searching for something to say. Eventually, he just held out his hand and they shook. He couldn’t believe that was it, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know how to get them from there to where he wanted them to be.

Namely, naked. Or at least naked enough to get his hands on some of the skin that Sam hid under all those expensive suits.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam blurted.

Eric exhaled, nodding. He gave the barest hint of a smile, wondering if the upcoming proposition would be more or less overt. Which is why he had to blink in surprise when Sam continued.

“In the game last night, when you were going out at the beginning, a bunch of fans and kids were trying to get a high five and you didn’t give any. Why not?”

Eric smirked, trying to regain his footing. It was promising that Sam had watched the game again and seemed to pay close attention to what he’d been doing. But that didn’t quite make up for the fact that the question wasn’t what he’d hoped, and he needed to figure out how to get them on the right track.

“Have to maintain my reputation,” he teased. 

“As a fighter.”

Eric nodded. “That. And high fives are just nerdy.”

Sam pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a smile. “I see.”

At the same time, Eric heard the office door down the hall open and close, and he heard voices coming closer. Damn it, he was going to have to move this along.

“Let me buy you a drink to thank you for…this,” he said, waving his hand to distract Sam from his slight nervousness. 

Sam opened his mouth but seemed speechless. He twisted, looking down the hall as he scratched at his neck. “I have to go to another meeting now,” he finally said.

“Later then,” Eric pressed. “You could – come to my house. There’s a bar down the street.”

Sam’s head jerked forward. They stared at each other. Eric inwardly crossed his fingers.

“OK,” Sam finally said. 

Eric smiled. He stepped a bit closer, just a bit. He wasn’t about to be too obvious just then and there. Nonetheless, he was surprised and more than a little pleased that Sam didn’t back away. He reached for the pen he knew was in Sam’s inner jacket pocket, letting the back of his fingers brush against Sam's chest as he removed it. Then he clicked the nib out and wrote his address and number on the file folder Sam was holding. He moved to return the pen, and Sam’s hand darted up, taking it before Eric could touch him again. 

“See you later,” Eric murmured, just as half the team’s management caught up to them. 

They stepped away from each other.

**

Eric hesitated by the door for a second or two, not wanting to open it _too_ quickly after Sam knocked. And then he opened it, pushing it out with one arm while leaning against the door frame. He smiled widely in welcome. Sam had lost his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Eric glanced at the notch of his throat and the revealed skin below it, and then flicked his eyes back up to Sam’s face. Sam looked nervous, but in a good way.

“Hi,” Eric said, finally stepping back enough to let Sam in. He closed the door behind him, and turned to see Sam was still facing the interior of the apartment. “I thought we could just have a drink here instead.”

Sam didn’t seem too surprised by the proposed change in plans. “Sure.”

“Beer? Something harder?”

“Any wine?”

Eric raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, but then headed towards the kitchen. He vaguely remembered a bottle somewhere that Joan had brought over for dinner one night, trying to get him to be more sophisticated, and they’d never opened. 

“I think I have some,” he said.

“What kind?” Sam asked, his voice closer than Eric expected. He glanced over his shoulder and realized Sam was following him.

“Uh…red? I think.”

Sam pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a laugh. 

Eric shook his head, rolling his eyes. “My sister brought it over, OK? I am probably as uncouth as you think.”

“Nice use of the word uncouth,” Sam said with exaggerated praise. 

“Thank you,” Eric tossed back, grinning. 

He opened two cupboards before he found the bottle, then held it out. Sam leaned forward to read the label.

“Your sister has good taste.”

He handed the bottle over along with the magnet on his fridge that was half rarely used bottle opener and half never used corkscrew. He wasn’t particularly keen on trying and failing to open the bottle and making an even bigger idiot of himself. Sam began to work on it without comment, and Eric turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with finding snacks. Shortly after, he heard the pop of the cork, and he finally remembered Sam would need a glass as well. He ignored Sam’s chuckle when he produced one, which told him it probably wasn’t _proper_ to pour wine into a beer glass but it wasn’t like he had anything more suitable. At least he gave him a clear one, instead of one with the Leafs logo. Then he grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and twisted the top off, tossing it in the sink.

“Living room?”

“Sure,” Sam replied, turning and leading Eric back to the front room. 

He let Sam sit first, happy that he chose the couch and even happier that he sat closer to the center than the side. Eric sat next to him, leaning forward to pull a copy of _Sports Illustrated_ closer. He turned it, putting his bottle down on end and leaving the other open for Sam’s glass. He figured Sam was the type to use coasters, but the magazine would have to do. 

Eric didn’t remember the last time he felt so inferior to the guy he was trying to get off with. But he turned to face Sam, and forced himself to talk, and eventually he relaxed. Even better, eventually, _Sam_ relaxed. Eric started to step it up a bit, grazing his hand against Sam’s shoulder and arm more and more frequently, letting it rest there longer and longer. And when he came back from the kitchen with fresh drinks and sat down again, he landed on the couch even closer, twisting and resting one knee on the cushion so he could face Sam fully.

Maybe another 40 minutes had passed before Sam finally called him on it. “What are you doing?” he murmured, when Eric dropped his hand and let it rest mostly on his own shin, but with the back of his fingers pressing against the side of Sam’s thigh, down far enough to pretend it was innocent. 

Eric glanced away, looking at Sam’s mostly empty glass. He looked at Sam again, and prepared to step over the line where he could just say Sam had the wrong idea and he wasn’t like that. He tilted closer, lifting his hand and stroking one finger down Sam’s chest to his stomach. His muscles contracted in a barely noticeable reaction to the contact. 

“I can’t afford to be wrong about things like this,” Eric said. “So, I’m pretty sure I’m not wrong.”

Sam exhaled a rather uncomfortable-sounding laugh. He didn’t meet Eric’s eyes. “You go right from 0 to 100, don’t you?”

Eric shrugged. “I don’t see the point in following some sequence of stages that – ”

“You’re not wrong,” Sam cut him off. Eric grinned, in relief and anticipation, but the expression fell off his face when Sam added, “But you’re not right, either.”

He didn’t sound too sure, though, and Eric didn’t really believe him. He quirked an eyebrow and started trailing his finger even lower. He made it to the button of Sam’s pants before Sam reached out and grabbed his arm. 

Sam paused, apparently involuntarily focused on Eric’s arm. He just barely squeezed the bicep in appreciation. “Damn,” he muttered.

Eric smiled again, recognizing that Sam’s hesitation was about to disappear. He shifted closer, only for Sam to lean back.

“No.”

Eric exhaled, deflating a bit. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s unethical to date clients.”

The objection made Eric laugh out loud. “Who said anything about dating?” he asked.

He wondered if he would have received a different response if his reply had been more teasing than sincere. At any rate, Sam tilted his head with a reproachful glare. “And it’s just stupid to sleep with closeted athletes,” Sam added.

Eric blinked, unable to respond for a moment. “You knew what I was suggesting when I invited you over,” he pointed out, a little accusingly.

Sam shook his head sharply and stood. “Momentary lapse of judgment.”

Eric twisted to look over the back of the couch as Sam started heading towards the door. After feeling frozen for a minute, he jumped to his feet and – well, he wasn’t particularly proud of it, but – chased after Sam. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Sam.”

Sam exhaled. His hand fidgeted at his side as he faced Eric. “I suppose you and I will be in touch again when your contract is up.”

The statement was preposterous and Eric couldn’t stop the surprised laugh. “In eight years? You can’t be serious.”

Sam stared at him, and Eric wondered what exactly he was looking for. He wondered how to fix this. On the other hand, he wondered why he was trying to. Fix what? All he wanted was a – it wasn’t like – 

“We could still go down the street,” Sam said suddenly, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Go to that bar you mentioned. Sit next to each other, have another drink, talk more.”

Eric felt sick at the very thought. “You know I can’t do that,” he practically whispered. 

Sam nodded. They stared at each other. And then Sam moved half a step closer. Eric had no idea what was happening anymore, and he had no idea why he felt like it hurt to breathe, like something was squeezing his chest. 

“Kiss me,” Sam said. 

“What?”

“Kiss me,” he repeated. 

Eric couldn’t move. He wouldn’t move, even if he really kind of wanted to. Finally, he managed to respond. “I don’t kiss.” It was something he’d said before, or heard from a hook-up before he had a chance to say it himself. It had never felt so much like a lie as it did just then.

Sam lifted his head in a vague half-nod. He looked pretty wrecked, and Eric wondered what his own expression looked like. 

“I figured. You went straight for my pants, you know? Seems like a kiss should come first, but that’s what gay guys do, and you’re not gay, right? You just enjoy an occasional handjob, maybe getting blown by some random guy you pick up when you’re on the road? Never giving one back, of course. That’s what gay guys do.”

With every statement, Eric felt himself shutting down, all (well, most) attraction and certainly a budding friendship being replaced by anger. “You don’t know me.” 

Sam scoffed, before replying with a tired sort of flippancy. “I’ve been a sports lawyer for years. I know more guys like you than you could possibly imagine.” He turned away, walking to the door. Before he opened it, he added one more time, “I don’t sleep with closeted athletes.” And then he was gone, the door falling shut behind him.

Eric didn’t move for maybe a minute. Then, he turned, looking back at the couch. He was always so careful, only giving into temptation occasionally and, yes, usually when he was out of town, but that didn’t mean what Sam seemed to think. It was just…wiser. Safely anonymous places, controlled times, only first names, and absolutely no misunderstanding about what everyone wanted out of it. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been rejected. He’d always made _sure_ that any guy he – 

That was the problem, of course. It was not at all careful to make the moves on his _lawyer_. In his own city. Feet away from his bosses, for Christ’s sake. What had he been thinking? Eric shook his head, deciding to be grateful that nothing had happened in the end. He couldn’t afford something like that. 

But he was unable to explain why it hurt more than he wanted to admit that Sam had walked away. Not to mention that he had lumped Eric in with a bunch of other guys, casting him as just one more dumb jock oaf that apparently couldn’t resist Sam’s charms. He ignored the flare of annoyed jealousy as he wondered if there were any that Sam had let get farther than him, or that would agree to his unreasonable demands – drinks in public, _kissing_ – just to get the chance to. 

Eric growled and picked up the evidence of the failed attempt at seduction from the coffee table. And then he stared at the sip of wine in the bottom of the glass. Without letting himself think about it, he lifted the glass and finished it off. He made a face, remembering why he didn’t drink wine. 

He pushed away the thought that it might taste better on Sam’s lips.


	2. Chapter 2

If Eric had any sense, he wouldn’t be there. He’d be back at the hotel, getting some rest, like he told most of the guys he was going to be. Or at least, he’d be at the sports bar a couple blocks away from the hotel, with the ones who went out after the game. 

Instead he was halfway across town, at a different kind of bar, hoping no one recognized him. 

If he had any sense, he’d have gone with the first guy who showed interest. All he really wanted was some relief. He was tired from the game, and stressed from the trip, and – well, OK, frustrated because of – 

But the first guy wasn’t right, and neither was the second guy. The third one, though, fit what Eric was looking for. He told himself it was the body, or the fact that he seemed a bit more discreet than the others, or something. But it probably was a bit about the fact that, in the dark bar, if he squinted, he resembled – 

Anyway. They shouted an inane conversation over the loud music for one or two songs, leaning close to each other along the bar. And then, Eric got what he came for, and the guy led him outside. He knew it was stupid to leave with him, actually. In situations like this, he usually made do with a bathroom stall, or if truly desperate, an alley. Stupid in their own way, of course, but at least easier to get away from. Maybe also easier to pretend they just happened and weren’t _planned_. 

But the guy said he lived close by, and frankly he was getting too old for this shit, and a bed or even a couch sounded nice. 

It ended up being the couch, but it was nice. Better than. They lost their shirts fairly early on. Eric did this kind of thing so rarely, and even more rarely did it in a way that led to making contact with more than the bare minimum amount of skin necessary to get the job done, so it was something of a treat to get his hands and lips all over the guy.

Well, all over except his mouth, of course. He didn’t kiss. As the guy moaned beneath him, cursing with pleasure, Eric considered crossing that particular line. It wasn’t – it wasn’t because he thought it was too _gay_ or whatever. But it did seem like something more intimate than these kinds of encounters called for. Something he didn’t want to do with a guy whose name he was not entirely sure about. And just thinking that sentimental garbage was probably far _gayer_ than anything else they were doing, honestly.

“Wanna fuck me?” the guy asked breathlessly, breaking Eric out of his mental spiraling. 

He backed up slightly, somewhat shocked. Truth was, some ( _most_ ) of Sam’s accusations had been spot on. His limited experience basically consisted of quick handjobs and blowjobs whenever he dared to risk it. And while he’d thought about doing more – doing that…thought about it a lot, actually, maybe even did a little experimenting with his own fingers, maybe watched some videos online…he’d never…done it. Speaking of crossing lines. It’d be hard to pass _that_ off as just scratching an itch with someone who wouldn’t expect anything more. That was about as _gay_ as a person could get. 

He had no idea what possessed him, but he found himself nodding. The guy grinned, then bit his lower lip as he pushed Eric farther back. He twisted, lifting his hips and pulling his wallet from his back pocket. Eric swallowed thickly, trying not to dissolve into nerves and premature regret. 

Later, when Eric was in the elevator going back up to his hotel room, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He was exhausted, more from the previous hour than the game earlier. He was really getting too old for that shit. It wasn’t even fun anymore. And he finally admitted to himself that he sought out a guy that looked enough like Sam, they could be brothers, but if he had hoped a pale imitation would have gotten certain _desires_ out of his system, well… 

It hadn’t worked.

**

That entire morning, Sam had battled internally with himself. He should just have Kara call and tell Eric that he didn’t need to come in, that he would just send him the paperwork to sign and mail back. It was nothing, a flimsy excuse to see him again, and he knew it. He was mailing it to most of the other guys, after all, because with the holidays, he knew many of them would be out of town.

But it had been months since he walked out of Eric’s apartment, and he had been trying to move on _(from what? There wasn’t anything to move on from!)_ , and maybe just seeing him again and establishing a truly professional relationship would help him finally forget about…everything. The night before, Isaac had suggested they go away for the weekend after the new year, and Sam had almost flubbed that, because he was too busy thinking about his scheduled meeting today and missed what Isaac had said. Isaac deserved better than that. So. He was a professional who could meet with his clients without it being weird, and he had to prove that. 

Sam shook his head. Isaac also deserved better than a boyfriend who scheduled unnecessary meetings just to see hot clients. He reached out for the phone to call Kara. But the phone rang before he could pick it up.

Sam grabbed it, nearly dropping it as he lifted it to his ear. “Miller.”

“Eric McNally is here,” Kara informed him. 

Sam closed his eyes, breathing deeply to center himself. “OK, bring him back.”

He hung up the phone and stood. He forced himself not to walk to the door to wait, instead pulling his jacket off the back of his seat and putting it on for a bit of armor. And before he could freak out anymore, there was a knock on his door. He crossed to it, opening it and stepping aside to give Eric plenty of room to enter. 

“Thank you, Kara,” he said, closing the door again.

He steeled himself before focusing on Eric again. Eric gave him nothing in return, his face a total mask. 

“Ah, nice to see you,” he said, scratching just next to his eye as he walked past him. He sat at his desk, pulling a file folder closer. “Like my message said, I just need a few signatures.”

“What are these for?” Eric asked, closing the distance and sitting. 

“Updated agreements between the league and union. Mostly boilerplate, but you can read through them, if you want.”

“Right.” Eric said, picking up a pen even as he shot a look at Sam that suggested he was more than used to getting these kinds of things in the mail. He leaned forward and began signing by the flags. Sam tried to tell if he was moving at an unusually slow speed. 

The increasingly noticeable tension in the room was broken by the ringing of his mobile. Sam checked the number and sighed.

“Excuse me, I have to take this,” he said, before answering and directing his attention to the caller. “Hello.”

“Sammy!” The sounds of reveling partiers in the background nearly drowned out Billy’s voice, but not enough to conceal the fact that he was three sheets to the wind.

“Where are you calling from?” Sam asked, already knowing what was coming.

“Rio, man! Julie and the kid are at her parents for Christmas, so I figured why not?”

Sam sighed, pinching his nose. “I’m going to guess you’re not going to be back for Hanukkah?”

Billy sucked in air before responding. “Mom will take it better if it comes from you.”

Sam considered getting into it with him, but he was acutely aware of Eric listening to his side of the conversation. And he knew Billy well enough to know it wouldn’t do any good, anyway. “Fine, whatever,” he replied, not bothering to say goodbye. He hung up, tossing the phone lightly back onto the desk. 

He focused back on Eric, who had finished signing and was now twirling and flipping the pen around. Sam stared at Eric’s fingers for a bit longer than he should have, before he realized he probably should say something.

“Trouble in paradise?” Eric asked, beating him to the punch and confusing Sam completely.

“Huh?”

“I assume that was your boyfriend.”

The statement was clearly meant to be casual, but Eric didn’t quite sell it. Sam suddenly realized he might not be the only one who was still a bit hung up on their last encounter. He wanted to take some comfort from that, but he also kind of wanted to poke at it. He wasn’t sure which was going to win out, so he stalled.

“My asshole brother. Breaking my mother’s heart.” 

“Oh,” was Eric’s only reply. 

Sam looked at him, narrowing his eyes. “My boyfriend’s name is Isaac,” he said, managing the kind of pointed nonchalance that Eric hadn’t been able to. So…he was going to poke at it, then. “He’s a doctor,” he added for good measure.

Eric stared back at him for a beat, then dropped his gaze. He stood. “Is that all?”

Sam wondered if he meant more than just the signatures. “That’s all.”

Sam stood, following Eric to the door. Eric turned to face him just in front of it, blocking Sam from easily reaching out to open it and making no move to do so himself. Sam felt a little nervous, wondering what was about to happen. But all Eric said was, “It was.”

Sam shook his head, waiting for something more.

“Nice to see you,” Eric clarified. 

Sam couldn’t manage much of a response to that, and Eric took advantage of his complete speechlessness to step in and give him a far-too-brief hug, patting him on the back once. Sam couldn’t even move until long after he let him go, pulled open the door and was halfway into the hall.

“Happy Hanukkah,” Eric called out over his shoulder.

Sam shook his head quickly. “Merry Christmas,” he managed to say, assuming someone named McNally was far more likely to celebrate that holiday.

He closed the office door then. He stared at his desk for a while, looking at the spread-out papers that Eric had just signed. He exhaled. Maybe it wasn’t an entirely professional meeting, and maybe he didn’t feel like the whole thing had been fully resolved, but he had seen him again and made it through, so he’d take it. 

He spent the rest of the day thinking about that hug, though, and wishing he had wrapped his own arms around Eric. And then he put it out of his mind.

He was successful for two whole days, until he received an unsigned Hanukkah card. He could guess pretty easily who had sent it. That night, Isaac dropped by with travel brochures and Sam broke up with him. Right before the holidays, which probably made him an even bigger asshole than Billy. 

Isaac was everything he thought he wanted. Isaac took him out on actual dates, held his hand in public, kissed him for no reason, introduced him to his family and friends. He was educated and successful, and he couldn’t care less about sports. Sam should have been well on his way to completely in love with him.

Damn it.

**

“Congratulations,” Sam said, a hint of a smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “You are now the face of Canada’s third most popular snow tires.”

Eric snorted, a bit unattractively he had to admit, but at this point what did it matter? It had been a long damn time since…all that, and his window with Sam had been pretty thoroughly nailed shut anyway. Which was good, he reminded himself, because Sam was his lawyer. For his job. In professional sports. He placed the pen in his hand down, right next to the contract he just signed.

“Do you think I have to tell them I personally use a different brand?”

Sam shook his head. “Nah.”

Eric smiled, nodding down at the desk. He fidgeted his fingers a bit, feeling like he should leave but not wanting to. Sam seemed in no hurry to show him out either. 

“So, how are you?” he asked, surprising himself almost as much as Sam with the question.

“Me?” Sam raised his eyebrows and rocked his head back. He looked away for a moment. “Fine,” he replied, shrugging.

“And…Isaac?” Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? 

Sam looked at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly before dropping eye contact. He leaned back in his seat, reaching out to press the tip of his pen against the desk as he hesitated. Eric wanted to reach across the desk and shake him. Or something. 

“We broke up a while ago,” Sam finally said. 

“That’s…too bad.” He didn’t sound too sincere and Sam slid him a glance that showed he wasn’t fooled. 

But if Eric thought that maybe his window could be pried back open after all, Sam’s attitude changed entirely and shot that idea to hell. He sat up, moving one hand to pull the edge of his jacket a little closer and then straighten his tie. 

“Anyway. You’ll probably be dealing with someone else here in the future.” 

Eric’s stomach dropped. He stared, speechless, for an embarrassingly long time. Then, forcing a laugh, he went for a joke to cover the weirdness. “Are you firing me? Isn’t that supposed to go the other way?”

“No,” Sam replied, breathing out his own strained laugh. “No, I’ve been offered a promotion. It comes with a transfer to, uh, to Montreal.”

“The _Habs_?” Eric was appalled. It was one thing to lose Sam to another man. But to lose him to another club? _That_ club? That was the only reason he was so upset, of course. “No. No, no, no. _Non!_ ”

“Pretty big raise too,” Sam added, actually chuckling at Eric’s reaction. 

“Not worth it,” Eric argued, shaking his head. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Guess I’ll have to learn French.”

“Sam!”

“I’m sure whoever replaces me will be a perfectly fine lawyer.”

As if _that_ mattered. Eric noticed his pulse was racing, and he knew he was about to start babbling in an attempt to convince him to stay. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. 

“It’s a done deal?” he finally asked.

“No,” Sam allowed, and Eric nearly fell over in relief. “But there’s not much reason to stay,” he added. 

If Eric wasn’t already panicking, that would have done it. The statement, combined with the vaguely hopeful way Sam looked at him, seemed to beg for a response from him. Eric knew what was needed, too. He could do it. He could ask Sam out, for real. It wouldn’t even be a big deal. Two guys could get drinks or dinner or something without it meaning anything. No one would necessarily leap to conclusions.

Eric opened his mouth, inhaling as he tried to form the words. But all he could hear in his mind was the voices of his classmates, his teammates over the years, all of them saying _Erica! Erica!_ Or saying much worse. His throat closed up, and he couldn’t make a sound. 

A beat later, Sam pressed his mouth into a tight-lipped smile and exhaled through his nose. He stood, walked around his desk and held out his hand. Eric stared at it for a moment, before standing himself. He took it, but rather than shaking, he used the grip to pull Sam into a hug. It took a moment before Sam lifted his arms and returned the embrace, and they both breathed out sort of shakily. Three or four seconds had passed when Eric felt Sam’s hand slide up between his shoulder blades then higher. He just barely placed his hand on the back of Eric’s head, his fingers burying into his hair. 

Eric stepped out of the hug a bit too abruptly. He cleared his throat, then cleared it again when he still felt unable to say anything. He looked at the floor, nodding awkwardly.

“Not fair that a lawyer has muscles like that,” he observed, only half teasing.

Sam barked a surprised laugh, but he looked just a touch flattered. He continued to stare at Eric, breathing deeply as he pressed his tongue to his bottom lip. Eric could tell he had no idea what exactly was happening either. 

“ _Ne pars pas_ ,” Eric said before he could stop himself.

“I told you, I don’t speak French.” Sam’s voice sounded as rough as Eric’s had. 

“It means – ” _Erica Erica Erica. Fuck._ “ – good luck.”

Eric turned, pulled open the door and escaped the office, absolutely refusing to look back.

**

“You’ve been way too quiet tonight,” Brenda observed, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “This is supposed to be a _Yay, Sam got a promotion!_ celebration, but you don’t seem very…yay!”

Sam looked at her with a blank expression until she removed her arm and flashed him an exaggerated pout. Sam sighed. They’d known each other since before puberty, and had been each other’s beards more times than he could count, so it wasn’t like he would fool or distract her for long. But he could try.

“I’m fine. Hey, you speak French, right?”

Brenda scoffed. “Some.”

Sam hesitated. “How do you say good luck?”

“Um…bonne chance.”

Sam nodded, the suspicion he had been trying to ignore all day coming back. He had heard enough French in his life to know that something hadn’t been right. He leaned closer to Brenda.

“What does…damn…new bow pa mean?”

Brenda laughed for at least a minute. Sam sighed heavily.

“Try again,” Brenda managed to say between her snickers.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. He tried really hard to remember. “Noo popow?”

Judging by Brenda’s expression, that was an even worse attempt. She shook her head, clearly trying to match it up with some – she inhaled suddenly, her eyes widening.

“ _Ne pars pas?!_ ”

“That’s it!” Sam would have felt relieved, except the way that a suddenly hyper Brenda was smacking his arm was a bit concerning.

“Who said that to you? Who? What have you been keeping from me?”

Sam flinched at a particularly hard slap, lifting his shoulder and leaning away in self-defense. “No one! What does it mean?”

She leaned closer, grinning widely. “It means don’t leave.”

Sam nearly fumbled his glass, and he reached out to put it on the table before he spilled. He cleared his throat, stretching his neck slightly and feeling a blush rise on his cheeks.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Who is he?”

Sam’s lips twitched as he fought a smile. Now in control of his body again, he lifted his glass. He exhaled a laugh, unable to stop the smile in the end. “No one,” he repeated before taking a drink.

“Something tells me this just turned into a _Yay, Sam’s staying in Toronto!_ party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the French I know, I learned from Google Translate, so...


	3. Chapter 3

Eric groaned softly as he stretched his arm over and behind his shoulder. It had been a pretty grueling practice, and he was bone tired. He wanted to go home, grab a beer and sit on his couch, staring at the TV until his dinner was delivered. He was debating what he wanted on the pizza as he approached his car. 

“Hi, McNally.”

He sighed and turned to see who had called him. Ted from the Players’ Association was heading towards the car next to his. Eric supposed he had to wait. 

“Ted, how are you?”

“Good, good. Two or three contracts are up soon, so I’ve been pretty busy.”

Eric nodded, pretending to be paying attention even as his mind jumped to an entirely different concern. Not that his mind was ever far from that particular concern. 

“Hey, who’s the new lawyer?”

“What do you mean?”

Eric shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He tried to appear casual as he said, “I thought, ah, didn’t Miller go to Montreal or somewhere?”

“Oh!” Ted nodded in understanding. Eric felt sick as he waited for the answer. And then he felt like he could be knocked over with a feather, when Ted said, “No. He turned down the job.”

“Oh,” Eric managed. He shook his head quickly. “Oh, never mind then. Well, good night.”

He barely waited for a response before climbing into his car. He must have pulled out of the spot and driven through the lot, because the next thing he knew he was on the road. Eric huffed a breath, forcing himself to pay attention. He didn’t want to get in a car accident. But he was still pretty distracted. 

“I should call him,” he observed to the empty car. “Right?” 

Almost immediately, he shook his head, then did a quick double take and changed lanes so he could turn at the corner.

“No,” he decided, slowing as he neared the intersection. “He didn’t even understand what I said. If it was about me, he would have called.”

He wasn’t sure that was the right answer, but it was at least the smarter one. Probably.

**

“Sam?”

Kara quite unexpectedly knocked on the frame of his open door and leaned into his office. It was rare that she came to speak to him rather than calling his extension, so he wondered what was up. 

“Yes?” he asked, lowering the document he was reading.

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Injury during a Leafs practice game.”

There was a sort of rushing noise in his ears, and his vision blurred for a second. “Which player?”

She shook her head. “Not sure yet, but it sounds like a bad one. There was an ambulance.”

Sam stood abruptly, dropping the papers in his hand onto the desk and closing the file folder over them. He walked as fast as he could without seeming like he was freaking out, making it to the door in record time. He grabbed his coat off the hook next to it, followed Kara out and closed the door behind him. He was at the elevator before he really knew it, reaching blindly for the call button.

He finally made it to the hospital, only to have to wait impatiently as the person in front of him finished up at the reception desk. 

“Oh, good, Sam, you’re here.”

He turned, grateful to see Ted entering the lobby. Ted walked closer, gesturing with his cell phone that Sam should start down the hall, so presumably he had more information than Sam did just then.

“Who is it?”

“McNally.”

Sam nearly tripped over nothing, but managed to catch himself. Only several doors down, they turned, following the signs. Ahead of them, he could see one of the assistant coaches and several players still in their uniforms. 

“What happened? My assistant said it was a practice game?”

“Yeah, I’m not really sure,” Ted said, almost immediately shifting his focus from Sam to the coach as they approached the group. “What’s the news?”

He looked at Ted and Sam, then sighed and shook his head. “Bad hit. Shoulder injury. He’s getting X-rays now so…if it’s minor, he’ll be on IR for a while.”

“If it’s major?” Sam asked. 

“He might be out for the season,” Ted speculated.

“Best case scenario,” the coach added, before gesturing angrily at a couple players. “What the hell was up with you all? It was a practice game, for fuck’s sake.”

Several opened their mouths to defend themselves, but just then a doctor joined the group, holding a large folder. The coach shooed away the players, and he, Sam and Ted stepped aside to join the doctor next to a light box. He slipped the X-ray in and turned the light on. 

Gesturing to a couple spots that meant absolutely nothing to Sam, the doctor explained quietly, “Broken in four places. We’re prepping him for surgery now.”

Ted whistled, and the coach cursed. 

“How many games will he miss?” Sam asked, looking back and forth between them.

The other three looked at him with varying degrees of disbelief. 

“The rest of them,” according to the coach.

“The whole season?” he asked. Eric was going to be pissed.

“No,” Ted clarified. “The rest of his career. He’s done.”

Sam looked at the X-ray again, feeling sick and angry but knowing it was nothing to how Eric would feel. Pissed was an understatement.

**

Sam typed away at his laptop, thankful that Kara had been able to bring it around halfway through the surgery. He resisted the pressure to leave with the others, who had gone to start the necessary business and press dealings. Sam was more than aware of the terms of Eric’s contract, obviously, and so he saw no point in worrying about it just then. Not when the only thing he cared about was being there when Eric woke up. They hadn’t been able to get a hold of his sister yet, so Sam felt it was only appropriate that someone hung around, and he was more than willing to volunteer.

It had been quite some time since they moved Eric out of recovery and into a private room. Since then, Sam had set up a little mobile office, with his computer balanced on his lap and a paper cup of crappy coffee perched on the ledge by the window. The sun was starting to set, sending long shadows across the room to the bed where Eric slept. Sam was so focused on his work that he didn’t even notice the (very loud) snores stop.

“Sam?” 

Eric’s voice was quiet, rough, and groggy from drugs, but it broke easily through Sam’s concentration. He looked up quickly, then just as quickly moved his computer to the ledge next to his coffee. He stood, stepped over to the chair closer to the bed, and sat down again. 

“How do you feel?” he asked, leaning forward. 

“Like I got hit by a train,” he grumbled.

Sam smiled. “No, it was just a hockey player.” He changed the subject quickly, teasing, “You snore really badly, anyone tell you that?”

“Too many hits to the beak,” Eric replied in a soft mumble. 

He didn’t let Sam distract him more than that, though. Sam cringed, reaching out ineffectively as Eric tried to sit up, winced, and relaxed again. 

“How bad is it?” he asked, the pain in his voice clear. 

Sam hesitated, wondering how much he should tell him just then. But his silence was enough.

“That bad, huh?”

“Your shoulder was broken in four places,” Sam admitted, sighing. 

Eric stopped breathing for a second, then he tilted his head back on his pillow, looking off to the side. 

“With…with rehab, you should be able to – ”

“You don’t have to say anything else. I’m not dumb,” Eric cut him off.

Sam watched him, opting for silent support for at least the next few moments. Eric closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. Then, he breathed in, hissing slightly at the movement.

“ _Fuck!_ ” 

It was just shy of a shout, and Sam jumped at the unexpected volume.

“Eric,” Sam began, keeping his voice as comfortingly steady as he could without slipping into pity territory. He scooted forward in the chair to get closer. “Eric, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Why are you here?” he interrupted rather bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “I’m sure the suits will want to buy me out sooner rather than later. Shouldn’t you be there?”

Sam faked a smile, choosing not to take anything personally. Actually, he chose to finally recognize this was all far more personal than professional. It was time to stop pretending otherwise or trying to resist it. 

“Don’t worry about that,” he replied. “You have an excellent lawyer, so it can wait. I’d rather be here with you.”

A sort of scary beat or two passed, and then Eric turned his head so he was looking in Sam’s direction. They held eye contact, and finally Eric gave him the smallest of smiles. It was enough.

Sam leaned forward, resting one hand on Eric’s uninjured arm. He exhaled, then patted it twice before standing. 

“I’m going to get the doctor,” he informed Eric. “He can tell you more, or at least will want to know you’re awake.”

“Yeah, OK. But…come back.”

Sam blinked, then flashed him a smile and nodded. “I will.”

He hesitated a moment, then bent down and pressed a quick kiss to Eric’s forehead. When he stood, Eric’s eyes were closed. Sam turned away and headed for the door before he opened them, not quite ready to see the expression in them.

**

Eric sat on the edge of his hospital bed. If he slouched too much, it ached like hell, so he tried to hold himself still and upright. The brace helped with that too. Joanie would be there soon to take him home, and he could not wait. He’d been in that damn hospital far too long. Of course, one minute was far too long, as far as he was concerned.

He wondered if they’d force him to take a wheelchair out. Probably. He scowled at the mere thought.

“Hi.” Sam suddenly appeared in the door, clearly distracted as he stared at his PDA. 

Eric smiled, immediately feeling much better. Sam had been in there every day, even just for brief visits, which Eric appreciated more than he could say. Sam was a good…friend. 

Right now, that was all he was willing to allow. And since Sam hadn’t tried to start any sort of conversation about it and had managed to miss Joanie whenever she – shit, Joanie.

Even as he remembered that she could appear at any time, she did. 

“Excuse me,” she said to Sam, who was still blocking the door. 

His head bolted up and to the side, and he smiled too broadly to be completely casual. “Hi,” he replied, very awkwardly, before looking to Eric for guidance. His eyes widened when he saw Eric out of bed and in street clothes. “Hey, you’re being sprung!”

“Yep, got the word today.” He lifted his good arm to point at Joanie. “This is my sister, Joan. She’s taking me home.”

Sam shook Joan’s hand, muttering his name and some vague pleasantries. Eric noticed, with some concern, that Joan looked like she wanted to laugh. 

“OK,” Sam continued, splitting his attention between them and talking a little too fast. “Well, I’ll let you do that, then, and I will talk to you…later. Uh, bye.”

Before Eric could reply, Sam had left. Joanie turned around and watched him walk away. After several seconds had passed, long enough for Sam to be out of earshot anyway, she turned back to Eric with a shit-eating grin.

Great.

“He seems nice,” she observed sing-song, walking farther into the room and putting her purse down on one of the visitor chairs. She stepped closer, reaching out to brush some of his hair back. “And cute.”

“You’re married, Joan. And expecting.”

It didn’t work. “I don’t mean for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eric asked, breathing shallowly and feeling a little lightheaded.

“So, he’s your friend?”

“Sam? He’s my lawyer.”

“And a friend.”

He shrugged, which he immediately regretted, but he did his best to hide the pain. “Sure. My lawyer and a friend. Well, sort of. I mean, we don’t hang out or anything. We work together. Or he works for me, I guess. The team. He works for the team.”

Joanie chuckled, and Eric forced his mouth shut. 

“Is he a friend like Tim was in school, before Dad told you not to hang out with him anymore? Or like Joey when you were billeted and you moped for a month after you came home? Or like Mark when – ”

“OK, stop. Just…”

Joan sighed, running her hand through his hair again. She smiled softly down at him. “Dad’s not around anymore,” she reminded him. “And you can be honest with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eric replied stiffly. “I have friends. A lot of them have been visiting. Sam, guys from the team, Jake – you remember Jake? And – ”

“Who has been here the most often?” Joan pressed gently. “The longest? Who have you needed here the most? Or just wanted here?”

Eric closed his eyes, breathing out. Despite the attempt to steady himself, his voice still sounded pained when he stopped her again by just saying her name.

“OK,” she replied, giving in. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head. “You don’t have to admit anything if you’re not ready. Just know I won’t be anything but proud and happy when you are, just like I have always been.”

For some reason – the aches all over his body, or maybe it was a side effect of the meds – he wanted to cry. Thankfully, just then, an orderly came into the room with a wheelchair, and he could start ineffectively protesting that instead of whatever Joan had been trying to accuse him of.

**

Eric sighed in relief. For the first time in weeks, he was alone. He was far enough along now that the nurse that had been hired for him was going to only come in the mornings to help him get ready for the day, and Joanie took that as a sign that she could cut down on her check-ups as well. After being coddled and prodded and nagged within an inch of his life, he should have been more than happy to have some goddamn peace and quiet.

But the first thing he did was take out his phone. Sam had seemed to pick up on the unspoken hint that as long as the others were around, he should stay away. They had emailed several times, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Eric found Sam’s office number in his contacts, hit the dial button and listened to the phone ring two, three times. Finally, he answered.

“Miller.”

Eric smiled at the tone of his voice, professional and distant. “Hey.”

“Hi.” The change was immediate and obvious. Eric could see Sam in his mind’s eye, relaxing a bit, smiling as he turned his full focus onto the conversation. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m great now. Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Want to bring me dinner?”

Eric grinned at Sam’s subsequent laugh. He supposed it wasn’t the most attractive offer. 

“What about Nurse Ratched? Or your sister?”

“They’ve both abandoned me,” Eric confirmed, putting on a pouty attitude that he didn’t think fooled Sam at all. “I’m all alone.”

“We can’t have that,” Sam replied, playing along. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Oh my God,” Eric tilted his head back onto the couch. “Joanie’s had me on nothing but rabbit food. I want a steak. No, a burger. And as much disgusting fried stuff as you can carry.”

“I’m not sure I can enable such unhealthy behavior.”

“I will make it up to you,” Eric promised, hinting for something more than he could probably deliver in his current state. 

But it got the desired reaction, namely a moment of speechlessness from Sam, followed by a rather flustered, “In that case, then, how about 7?”

“I’ll be waiting. Don’t be late.”

Sam wasn’t, showing up five minutes early even. When Eric opened the door, Sam held up a bag with a dark grease spot staining the logo of one of Eric’s favorite diners just down the street.

“Burger, fries, plus a couple pieces of fried chicken.” He lifted the cup holder in his other hand. “Chocolate shakes.”

Eric couldn’t decide if he wanted to cry in joy, kiss Sam soundly, or confess his undying love. So, he settled for taking the bag and waving Sam inside. He followed Sam into the living room, enjoying the view as Sam put the drinks down and pulled off his jacket. He folded it in half, then laid it over the back of a nearby chair. When Sam sat down and turned to look curiously at Eric, he shook his head and kicked himself into gear. He joined Sam on the couch, suppressing the memory of the last time they were in these spots, and opened the bag to start distributing the food. 

It was the most fun he had in ages, at least off the ice. They covered a range of topics, from how awesome Joanie was and how big of an asshole Billy was, to Sam’s time in law school, to Eric’s ongoing battle with his neighbor over their assigned parking spots, to Sam’s favorite movies and Eric’s guilty pleasure TV shows, and so much more. They _didn’t_ talk about hockey, or Eric’s injury, or what he was going to do now, and it was perhaps the first time in weeks he hadn’t thought about that at all. 

That didn’t mean his body had forgotten about it, though, and as it got late, he began shifting in discomfort. Sam noticed, of course, and pushed him into taking a pain pill even as he began to clean up the mess. 

He walked Sam to the door, disappointed that the night was ending but more than aware that he wasn’t able to follow through on the _making it up to him_ thing. Even if that had been obvious from the start to both of them, Eric still wished…

“Are you going to be OK?” Sam asked. “Do you need any help with…anything?”

Eric shook his head. The pain and the drugs were working together to shut him down pretty quickly, but he worked hard to hide it. It was one thing to have Joanie or the nurse help him undress and tuck him into bed like a child. He would be pretty mortified if Sam saw him that helpless.

Sam accepted his answer, though, thankfully. He reached out, twisting the knob but not opening the door yet. He turned to look at Eric, seeming to struggle for what he wanted to say. Eric watched him for a moment, and then, as if he was possessed or having an out of body experience or something, he stepped closer, leaned forward and pecked Sam’s cheek just next to his mouth. 

“Good night,” he said.

Sam closed his mouth, fighting against a smile. He nodded, turning and opening the door perhaps in an attempt to hide his reaction. “Good night,” he replied as he left. 

Eric stared at the closed door for a moment, wondering what had just come over him. But he couldn’t really regret it. He could still feel the scratch of Sam’s stubble on his lips, and he lifted his hand to run it over his mouth. Eric shook his head, laughing through his nose, and then he walked to his bedroom, shutting the lights off as he did. 

He made one half-assed attempt to take off his shirt, then decided it could serve as pajamas. The pants were unfortunately not as comfortable, so with his good hand he unbuttoned them and then shimmied out of them. He sat down, then stretched out slowly. It was too hard these days to move into the middle of the bed, so he had been sleeping on just one side. For the first time in his life, he let himself wonder what it would be like to do that all the time, so the other side could be open for someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am bad at guessing kids' ages but Hank definitely seems older than this story would have him. I just need it to be this way, OK.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam climbed the front step of Eric’s building and entered the security code for the door that Eric gave him early on. He walked inside and over to the elevator, pressing the call button then settling to wait for it to arrive. It was the first time he’d dropped by without an invitation, but he suspected that wouldn’t be an issue. Eric was always happy to see him. Sometimes he had been clearly lonely and bored and spent the next couple hours talking with Sam as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. Sometimes he was obviously tired and sore, and they just turned on the TV, Eric leaning against him and often falling asleep. Sometimes Sam brought food, and sometimes he actually cooked for Eric. 

Despite all that, he was incredibly confused. He knew there was _something_ going on. There was a definite understanding that this wasn’t just something friendly. Friends didn’t text constantly when they were apart. Sam was pretty sure that Eric didn’t rest his hand on other friends’ stomachs when they cuddled while watching TV, often letting one finger slip between the buttons and slide against Sam’s skin. And he was damn sure that Eric didn’t peck his other friends goodbye when they left. But he never once let his lips slide just a tiny bit over and land on Sam’s mouth. And they never once talked about what exactly they were, if not friends. 

Fine, Eric was recovering from a terrible injury and an invasive surgery. It wasn’t like Sam expected acrobatic sex or anything. But still.

Soon enough, Sam was at the door to Eric’s apartment. He knocked, only to get a rather surprising “It’s open.”

Sam entered, looking around for Eric and spotting him on the floor of the living room, the only visible part of him being his feet sticking out past the couch. 

“Eric?”

There was no response, and Sam walked around the couch to look down at him. Eric wore exercise clothes, and there were noticeable sweat stains at his pits and on his chest. His bad arm was bent, resting on his stomach, while the other flopped out to the side. His hair was damp and unruly, and lines of pain and exhaustion appeared quite deep on his face. Several rubber bands from his physical therapy were on the other side of the room, possibly as if they had been bundled up and thrown ineffectually away. 

“I can’t move,” Eric whispered.

Sam sighed. “You shouldn’t push yourself that hard.”

“I’ll never get better if I don’t.”

“Or you’ll make it worse,” Sam countered, crouching to support Eric as they got him sitting. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come over?”

“Probably just slept here.”

Sam shook his head, then braced himself to try to lift the near-dead weight of his professional athlete…boyfriend or something. With a grunt from him and a groan from Eric, they managed to get him standing after a couple embarrassing attempts. Sam wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, taking a bit more of his weight than was comfortable as he helped Eric into the bedroom.

He was keenly aware this was the first time he’d been in there.

“Sit down,” he instructed. Once Eric did, Sam stepped back, putting his hands on his hips as he twisted to look back at the door. “Are your pain pills in the bathroom? Kitchen?”

“Kitchen.”

“OK, just hang on.”

He found the pill bottle almost immediately, read the label quickly before tapping out two of them, and then grabbed a glass from the cupboard for water. When he made it back to the bedroom, he was vaguely amused to see Eric had not moved at all. He wondered if it was because Sam had told him not to or because he physically couldn’t.

“Here,” he said softly, holding out his hand. 

Eric took the pills, lifting them to his mouth so listlessly that Sam didn’t trust him to hold the cup by himself. He kept one hand on it, not overthinking the way that Eric put his own hand over Sam’s. Together, they tilted the glass enough for him to wash the pills down. Then, Sam reached over and put the cup on the nightstand, settling for lining it up with a ring already there even though it went directly against everything he believed in. But he couldn’t focus on that at the moment. 

He turned back to Eric, leaning over him to reach the hem of his shirt. He pulled it up his back and over his head. Eric hissed as they moved it slowly over one arm and then the other.

“Can just leave this on,” he pointed out.

“No, it’s gross.”

“Just trying to get me naked.”

Sam chuckled. “Sadly, this is not how I imagined it.”

Eric was already lying down, and he tilted his head curiously as he hit the pillow. He raised an intrigued eyebrow. Sam fought to maintain a completely deadpan expression, as he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over Eric, one arm on either side of his body. 

“How did you imagine it?” Eric asked. 

“Good night, Eric.” 

“Don’t you want to take off my shorts too?” The attempt at a seductive leer almost made him break into laughter, but he held on. 

“I’m trusting you’re doped up enough now that you’ll forget this conversation.”

“Oh, I’m not forgetting it. Ever.”

Sam laughed. Against his better judgment, he moved one hand to the side of Eric’s head. His hair was still wild, and he smoothed it down a bit to justify the caress. And then he leaned down and kissed him square on the lips. It was closed-mouthed and brief, but it was unmistakably a real kiss. 

Which Eric didn’t do. 

He sat up, looking down at Eric, waiting to see how he responded. After a moment, Eric opened his eyes. They were a bit starry, but Sam wasn’t silly enough to think that was because of him and not the drugs. Eric sighed, his eyes drooping again.

“If I wasn’t about to pass out…” he muttered.

He didn’t finish that statement, drifting off to sleep effortlessly. It sounded more regretful than anything, though, and Sam smiled.

**

It had been a damn good day. He was able to actually drive himself to physio, where they told him he’d probably only need another few weeks of formal appointments. Then, he actually took the time to walk around a bit, with a hat pulled low and sunglasses to conceal his identity just in case. And shortly after he got home, he received a text from Sam saying that he was on his way over. At 3:00 in the afternoon, so Eric couldn’t wait to tease him for skipping out of work just to see him.

There was a knock just then, which made Eric grin and push off the counter quickly to head for the door. The day was about to get better. 

“Hi!” he greeted Sam as he stepped aside to let him in. 

Sam reached out and trailed his fingers along Eric’s stomach as he passed. 

“I was just making a snack. Want something?”

“No, thank you.” 

He followed Eric into the kitchen anyway, watching quietly as he went back to his sandwich fixings. Eric glanced up when Sam put his briefcase on the counter. That in itself wasn’t particularly strange, but things did get sort of odd when he opened the case.

“You gonna get in trouble for sneaking out?” he asked, feeling somewhat like he was missing something.

“I’m technically working,” Sam said gently, reaching into the case. 

He took a breath, then pulled out a file folder. He turned it around and held it out to Eric. Eric froze, looking at it but unable to force his body to move. 

“This is…?”

Sam nodded. When Eric didn’t take it, he put the folder down on the counter. 

“We can go through it, if you’d like.”

“No, not now. I…I – ” 

Eric braced his arms against the counter, looking down and breathing deeply. His eyes burned, and he was pretty sure he was going to start crying. It wasn’t like he didn’t realize it would come eventually. He really expected it long ago, but he supposed there was a lot of negotiation going on without his knowledge. Some small part of him still secretly hoped that all the predictions were wrong, that he’d regain his range of motion and his strength enough…but, no. He knew that he was never going to get to that level again. He could live a perfectly normal life, but professional hockey was not perfectly normal. 

The tears started falling, and he lifted one hand to cover his eyes. He sobbed once, trying to turn it into a cough to make it less obvious. 

“It’s OK,” Sam said, his voice soft and closer than expected. Eric realized he had walked around to be nearer to him. “It’s OK to be upset. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He breathed out harshly, trying to calm down anyway. Eventually, he removed his hand and braced it against the counter again. He shook his head, looking at the folder rather than making eye contact with Sam.

“My whole life,” he observed. “I devoted everything I had and everything I could have had to it, on skates almost before I could even walk. And this is how it ends. A damn practice game. A brat kid with a sign distracting me and a jackass calling me – ”

He broke off, and after a beat, Sam asked, “Calling you what?”

“Nothing. Just some taunts in the locker room got me riled up that day. I should have been used to it by then.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam nod as if something finally made sense. “And that’s why you were fighting? Even though it was just a practice game.”

Eric sighed. He turned around and leaned back against the counter. He crossed his arms and finally nodded. 

“What were they calling you?” Sam asked again. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

“Erica,” he snapped out. “I mean, it’s nothing. Nothing. They always called me that, as long as I can remember.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment. His next statement came as something of a surprise. “I was Samantha through all of grade school.”

Eric turned to look at him, finally making eye contact. They stared at each other for a moment. Eric was strangely comforted, feeling for the first time like someone understood why it wasn’t funny and it wasn’t harmless and it definitely wasn’t something that you should get from the people who were supposed to have your back, who were supposed to be your family, your brothers. 

“I guess hockey players have the same level of clever creativity as ten-year-olds,” Sam observed slyly.

Eric snorted in surprise, then gave Sam a fake-reproachful expression. “I actually made it through a couple years of college, you know. Had to kill some time before I made the team.”

Sam grinned. “I know.” 

“Of course, considering all the hits to the head since then…” 

“What did you major in?”

“Hmm?”

“At college. What was your major?”

“Hockey.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and Eric laughed. “Communication. I guess I thought I’d be a commentator or something when they forced me to finally retire.”

Sam reached out, smoothing one hand along Eric’s back. He turned into the contact, shifting his weight slightly. 

“So, start putting out feelers now,” Sam suggested. “Let them know you’re available as soon as you’re 100 percent.”

“You think?”

“I’ll help you get a good contract.”

“Yeah?”

“Unofficially, of course. After you sign those,” he said, nodding at the documents on the counter, “you won’t be able to afford me. I didn’t get you that good of a deal.”

Eric tilted his head back and laughed. When he faced Sam again, he had a feeling that his expression was kind of goofy. He wondered if Sam knew it was because he just realized that meant Sam would have no more ethical qualms with dating him. 

“Can you see me on TV?”

Sam nodded solemnly. “It’s time for the rest of your life to start.”

Exactly. 

Eric pounced, catching Sam quite off-guard. The noise he made when Eric’s mouth landed on his was all surprised pleasure. Eric put his hands on Sam’s face, holding him still as he deepened the kiss. Sam opened his mouth, allowing Eric to pulse his tongue inside, stroking it along Sam’s own. Over the sound of his pounding heart, he could hear Sam breathing harshly through his nose. Sam’s hands came up, wrapping around Eric’s shoulders and pulling him closer. His fingers dug into his muscles in just the wrong place, and the pressure was a bit uncomfortable. Eric suppressed any possible reaction to that, refusing to let something as unimportant as his damn shoulder stop them now. It turned out kissing was _amazing_. If he had known what he was missing out on all this time…on the other hand, maybe it was just this good because it was Sam. 

But then Sam was pushing him away. They rested their foreheads against each other, both breathing rapidly in the small space between them. Eric moved to connect again, and Sam pushed harder, holding him back.

“OK,” he said, sounding regretful. “OK, we can’t do this, not now.”

“Oh for fuck’s – ” Eric broke away, reaching around Sam to grab the paperwork. He signed each of the marked sections as quickly as he could. He tossed the pen back down and faced Sam. He hooked one hand around the back of his head, pulling him closer as he started to lean in.

“You’re not my lawyer anymore. I’m not a closeted athlete anymore.” 

Well, the athlete part was true, anyway. But he wasn’t going to split hairs at the moment, not when there was something much more important to be focusing on.

Sam laughed, even as he continued to push Eric away. “That’s my point.” 

“Huh?” Eric asked, stepping back. 

Sam heaved a sigh, straightening up in a way that rather alarmingly seemed like he was not only ending the kissing but also preparing to leave. Sam waved his hand back and forth between them. 

“You’ve had some big changes in your life lately, and today in particular. And maybe I’ve been something positive during all that. I hope I have been. But…I don’t want to be a consolation prize. I want to be someone you choose.”

“Sam, what – ”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Eric stared at him, not quite believing or understanding what he was saying. Somehow this conversation was ending up more depressing and painful than anything to do with his career. 

“You think that’s what this about?” 

Sam turned away, gathering up the papers and placing them in his briefcase. He closed the latch and picked it up before focusing on Eric again.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe.”

“Sam…”

“I should go home.”

Eric watched, speechless and paralyzed, as Sam walked out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updated! This chapter is longer and smuttier than usual to make up for the wait.

The shrill ring of the phone made Sam sit straight up in bed. He groaned, running a hand over his face and twisting to squint at the clock. Three AM, which would be bad enough, except the last time he remembered looking at, when he was tossing and turning and trying to sleep, was only 40 minutes ago. He still didn’t know if he had made the right choice earlier. He had started to realize that, as Eric got stronger and healthier, he was no longer as dependent on Sam as he had been. Between that and the finalization of his buyout, he knew Eric was in a place to start making decisions about his life going forward. Which made Sam acknowledge that he hadn’t really been making a lot of decisions before then, just going along with what doctors and lawyers and agents and coaches and therapists and everyone told him. What Sam told him. He had needed Sam for a lot, for a long while, and Sam had liked being needed. It might have confused things for both of them, and he was afraid that – 

He was afraid.

And so he might have ruined everything.

The phone rang again, and Sam shook his head. He reached out and grabbed it off his nightstand. The name on the caller ID wasn’t surprising but it was concerning. 

Sam answered as he fell back onto his pillow “Eric? What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Sam sighed, rubbing at his eye. “I wasn’t really sleeping all that well anyway,” he admitted. 

They were both silent for a beat, and then Eric blurted, “Why did you stay?”

Sam furrowed his brow, unable to make the connection to whatever Eric was talking about. “Huh?”

“Why didn’t you go to Montreal?”

“Oh.” He felt his pulse pick up a bit. “Oh, I…I had a reason to stay.”

“What reason?” Eric pressed.

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. “Someone asked me to stay,” he admitted, knowing that Eric would easily read between the lines. 

“You figured that out?”

“Yeah.”

“OK!” Eric said loudly and triumphantly enough to make Sam jump a bit. He sounded like he had just won some argument Sam didn’t realize they were having. He wondered if Eric had been rehashing their earlier conversation as much as he had, figuring out different things that he should have said. “OK, so then you know how I – I mean, this is not just because of my shoulder or because my NHL career is over. This has been going on for longer than either of us…”

“It has,” Sam agreed, resting one loosely curled fist over his heart. He took a breath, unsuccessfully searching for more of a response.

“Why didn’t you call me after you decided to stay?”

The million-dollar question. He had thought about it a lot. That night Brenda had translated Eric’s request for him, and so many times in the days and weeks after, he had thought about it. He wanted to but he couldn’t bring himself to. 

“I didn’t know if…” He still didn’t know how to finish that. “I was afraid to risk it,” he finally said. 

They listened to each other breathe for several moments. Sam wished he could see Eric’s face. He damn near yearned to feel Eric in the bed next to him. 

“If I – ” Eric began then, his voice painfully strained. “If I get a job with a network or something, I can’t just – I’d have to – there’s no way – ”

“I know,” Sam allowed, eyes closing as he nodded. 

He wondered what it would be like. He hadn’t been in the closet, well, ever. But he also wasn’t marching in pride parades or something, either. Would all that much really change in his life if he… He remembered what things had been like with Isaac. How they went out and how they didn’t hide anything but how he wasn’t all that happy anyway. He was happier just hanging out with Eric in his living room than he ever was out in public with other guys. 

When Eric spoke again, his voice broke a bit. “How can I prove that I choose you, if I can’t actually choose you?”

He probably confused Eric even more when he laughed. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, and his smile stretched wide across his face. “I propose something lawyers call a compromise.”

After a pause, Eric replied dryly, “I don’t think that’s just a lawyer word.”

“You change a little,” Sam continued, only acknowledging Eric’s statement with a grin he couldn’t see anyway. “And I change a little.”

“OK…explain.”

“Look,” Sam said, sitting up. “It’s not like I advertise my personal life at the office, either. So, you just keep things private at work, and we stay discreet, and then when it’s just us…”

“We be super gay with each other?”

A laugh burst out of Sam, and he placed his palm over his face. He heaved a breath to calm himself. “Not how I’d put it, but yeah.”

“How would you, ah, put it?”

The sly gravel of his voice pitched low made Sam flush unexpectedly. He looked in the direction of his mirror, although he couldn’t see himself through the darkness anyway. If he could, he suspected he’d be red with a sort of embarrassed heat and his eyes would be wide. His breath turned shallow, even as all his blood rushed to his groin. Sam lowered back onto his pillow, pulling at his suddenly tight pajama pants and suppressing a moan as the fabric rubbed against sensitive skin. 

“The tone of your voice suggests you might have an alternative meaning there, Eric,” he observed.

“I might.”

His voice just dripped with seduction, and Sam closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. “You’re impossible,” he finally said.

Eric’s chuckle made him harden even more, but his next response was surprising and while it didn’t throw a bucket of cold water over Sam or anything, it did help him regain some control.

“Look, seriously,” Eric said. “I…should tell you I don’t have all that much experience with this.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, I figured,” he reminded Eric. 

“Shut up and listen to me. It’s not just that I’ve never really…dated a guy. I mean, all of it. You were right. Handjobs. Blowjobs. One time I – well, one time I – ”

“Fucked someone?” Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mm, I really like it when you talk dirty like that,” Eric responded, and Sam could tell it was as much a way to try to pivot away from an uncomfortable conversation as it was sincere. “You’re just so damned _proper_ all the time. I like that I can get you to – ”

“You’re getting sidetracked,” Sam interrupted firmly.

Eric sighed. After a moment, he spoke again, back to a confessional and vaguely hesitant tone. “I know, because I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“So, um, how do you…”

“I like handjobs and blowjobs,” Sam said, trying to be as direct and straightforward as possible, to help Eric get comfortable with the topic. “I like getting fucked.”

He paused, but Eric didn’t say anything. Sam swallowed, as he conceded another reason he always knew it was pointless to get involved with closeted athletes, who would never accept being the quote-unquote girl. Finally, he just said it. “I prefer being on top, though.”

He stared up at the ceiling and waited for Eric to respond. When he did, he kind of regretted trying to keep his own voice so emotionless and steady, because Eric did the same, and it made it hard to figure out what he was thinking.

“I see. And that’s something you’d – ”

“I wouldn’t force you to,” Sam interjected.

“It’s not that.” Eric broke off, but when he spoke again, he lost the fake indifference and _fuck_ , his tone was so aroused that Sam instantly became rock hard again. “Jesus, it’s _really_ not that, but I – I just realized that it really sucks to be talking about this right now, when there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Sam laughed, partly out of relief and partly out of incredibly frustrated desire. But mostly out of anticipation. “Speak for yourself,” he said. “There’s nothing stopping me.”

Eric’s responding chuckle was raw and broken. “I suppose,” he observed, his voice now teasing, happy, and so, so ready. Before he continued, he moaned just enough to let Sam know he had started, and Sam moved his own hand to where he had wanted it for the last several minutes. “I suppose it would be a good idea to test my shoulder a bit, see how my mobility is coming along.”

Sam hummed. “I think I should stay on the line while you do that. So, I can hear how it goes, maybe help out a bit.”

“You take such good care of me,” Eric said, with just a hint of sincerity.

“I try,” Sam replied, letting honesty slip in as well.

And then, they put any other concerns and feelings aside for a while, as Eric asked him for more details about…well, about how Sam would put things. It turned out Eric’s shoulder was more limber than either of them had realized.

**

Sam took a sip of his drink, then licked his lips as he returned the glass to the table. He rested his arms on the table and looked around. It was a pretty typical sports bar, not that Sam ever frequented these places if he didn’t have to. TVs scattered around the room played different games, and there was a crowd around the bar cheering for one in particular. The tables were pretty empty at this time of the evening, though, and they were lucky enough not to have any neighbors. Pennants and posters and memorabilia hung all over the walls. He caught sight of a poster with a picture of Eric in his uniform and helmet, his mouth open and his eyes steely. His last name trailed down the side of the poster. It made Sam smile, but he didn’t know if he should point it out to Eric. It might not give him the same kind of warm fuzzies, after all.

He looked across the table at Eric, who was chewing on his lower lip as he read the menu. Speaking of warm fuzzies…

Drinks and fried food at a sports bar was not really Sam’s idea of a first official date, but it was more than he ever expected from Eric. And Eric had been the one to ask. He specifically phrased it as a date, and while Sam knew that didn’t mean he could _act_ like it was a date while they were there, it was still such a big deal that he couldn’t help but appreciate it. It might just be his favorite first date ever. 

Eric looked up at him, then, as if he felt Sam’s eyes on him. “What?” he asked, laughing slightly as he lifted his beer and took a sip. 

Sam shook his head. 

Eric narrowed his eyes, but let it slide. “Do you know what you’re ordering?”

“I see something tasty,” Sam confirmed, soft enough to make very sure no one would hear him.

“ _Stop._ ” Eric rolled his eyes, then focused on the menu again. Even in the dim lighting, Sam could see the blush on his cheeks.

**

Sam knocked on the door of the apartment and waited. But when the welcome came, it wasn’t from the direction he expected.

“Hi.”

Sam turned towards Eric’s voice. He was coming out of the stairwell, wearing exercise clothes and breathing fairly heavily. He smiled at Sam as he walked closer, reaching one hand up to pull a key from a small pocket on his sleeve. 

“I saw you going into the building,” Eric told him, grinning over his shoulder as he unlocked the door. “But I was too far away to call out.”

“Subtle,” Sam observed, following Eric into the apartment and closing the door behind them. 

Eric glanced at him with a furrowed brow, then headed towards the kitchen, rolling his arm around to stretch out his shoulder. Sam watched, admittedly a bit hungrily, as Eric pulled the bottom of his shirt up to wipe at his face. He then took a water bottle out of the fridge and downed half of it, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

Sam shook his head and blinked a bit to refocus. Eric looked back at him, one curious eyebrow raised, a smirk just barely hidden. 

“You were too far away to call to me,” Sam repeated to explain himself, “and you took the stairs, but you still made it to the apartment basically the same time as I did.”

“Oh.” Eric laughed. With a wink, he added, “And that was after I ran five miles too.”

“You should know by now that athletic stuff doesn’t impress me.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My eyes are up here.”

Sam laughed, pressing his tongue to his teeth. He stepped close enough to finally give Eric a quick kiss hello.

“Did we have plans?” Eric asked once they separated. 

Sam shook his head. “Just wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner.”

“Ugh, can we order in?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What do you want?” Eric asked.

It was a really unfair question, when Sam was trying so hard to ignore the fact that Eric was looking unbelievably good, despite or because of the signs of his recent exertion. He looked at Eric’s hands rolling the water bottle back and forth, and then he looked up again, almost immediately distracted by a track of sweat on the side of his face. Suddenly, Sam was back in that rink, at their first meeting, when he saw Eric and part of him knew even then that something special was happening, or at least that’s what he told himself now. And at a baser level, he had known that Eric was one of the more attractive men he’d ever seen. He remembered that bead of sweat that had so enthralled him back then, and he realized that he could succumb to that urge now and lick it off Eric. 

He leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth first, then sliding over to kiss his cheek, and then finally he stuck his tongue out and ran it along Eric’s cheekbone, tasting the salt on his skin, before burrowing his nose into Eric’s hair and breathing him in.

“Did you just lick my face?” Eric asked, grin audible despite the near whisper.

“Mm-hmm,” Sam said again. 

“ _Why?_ ”

“It’s a long story,” Sam muttered. 

“Want to tell me it in the shower?”

Sam backed up enough to see Eric. Eric raised a teasing, tempting eyebrow, then lifted his bad arm about halfway, pretending he couldn’t go any higher. 

“I can’t wash my hair,” he claimed, pouting for good measure. 

“You do smell pretty bad,” Sam replied.

That response didn’t do much to deter Eric, not that Sam had expected it to. Soon enough, they were in the bathroom. Sam undressed, trying not to obsess too much over the fact that this was the first time they would see each other naked – and probably do a lot more than that naked, too. Eric leaned over to turn the water on, then turned away, pulling a couple towels off a shelf. 

Sam had all his clothes off by the time Eric turned to face him again. He took it as a compliment that Eric stilled then, his gaze falling to Sam’s torso, then lower. He wasn’t a professional athlete, but he put effort into staying in shape, and Eric definitely seemed to appreciate it. 

He appreciated it so much, he nearly fell over as he hurried to pull his own clothes off. Sam barely got a chance to glance at him, before Eric was grabbing his arm and pulling him into the shower. Between stepping over the edge of the tub and onto the wet surface, they were lucky they didn’t fall and break their necks. 

Sam steadied himself by grabbing onto Eric, or at least that was his story. He wrapped his arms around Eric, pulling him into a kiss even as he pushed him underneath the spray of warm water. Eric moaned, hanging onto just enough sense to pull the curtain shut before hugging Sam. Their bodies made full contact shortly after that, and Sam exhaled, his breath shuddering against Eric’s lips. 

Sliding his hands over Eric’s back, Sam broke the kiss, sucking at Eric’s chin and jaw before moving to nuzzle at his neck. Eric buried one hand in Sam’s hair, scrunching his fingers and pulling a bit, moving Sam’s head to position him where he wanted him. With his other hand, he reached down to Sam’s lower back, pulling him closer to grind together. 

Sam realized that they needed to slow things down fast, if they wanted this to last. He pulled back, lifting a hand to push his wet hair off his forehead. Eric followed after him, trying to kiss him again, and Sam placed his other hand on his chest. Eric opened his eyes, relaxing when Sam smiled at him. Then, Sam looked around, spotting a bottle of shampoo. He grabbed it, pouring a dollop into his palm.

He rubbed his hands together, working up a lather, then reached out. He started with soft passes through Eric’s hair, enjoying the way Eric’s eyes closed in pleasure at the caresses. When he started working it in a little harder, occasionally scratching at Eric’s scalp, he began swaying back and forth and once, Sam was pretty sure even though it was hard to hear over the sound of the water, he moaned. 

Sam nudged Eric back under the stream of the shower, running his hand through Eric’s hair several times as the suds rinsed out. Eric sighed, eyes closing as he tilted his head back even farther. He didn’t even really seem to notice when Sam bent down again, this time picking up the shower gel and a wash cloth. He _did_ notice when Sam started scrubbing that cloth across his chest, however.

Eric smiled at the sensation, his muscles twitching under Sam’s attention. Sam focused on his pecs first, then his abs. He lowered the cloth down one side, letting it dangle against one thigh, then he raised it up and moved it over to the other side, repeating the move while purposely ignoring the part of Eric’s body in between.

“Come on,” Eric scolded, laughing, opening his eyes to attempt to glare at Sam.

He took it as a challenge, moving the cloth all the way up. With his other hand, he nudged Eric to start turning. He used the warm, wet cloth to massage at the muscles of his shoulder, running the tips of his fingers over the scars from his surgery – starting to fade in some parts and still red and puffy in others. Eric hissed at the contact, but not in a bad way.

“Sensitive,” he murmured. 

Sam leaned down to kiss his shoulder, and then forced Eric to complete the turn until his back was to Sam. He swirled the towel in circles down his lats. When his hands got to Eric’s ass, he dropped all pretense of washing him. He hooked his free hand around Eric’s hip, pulling him back until Sam’s cock nestled between the cheeks, and he moved the washcloth forward again, finally using it to stroke at Eric’s own straining hardness. 

“Jesus, Jesus,” Eric muttered, babbling nonsense when Sam started sucking at his neck again.

They rocked together for a while, enjoying the friction. Eric reached his good arm up and back, hooking it around Sam’s neck to hold him close. And then, it apparently wasn’t enough for him anymore. He turned around so quickly, Sam thought for a second he was going to fall. But instead, Eric used the momentum to push Sam into the side wall. He practically attacked him, mouths connecting in a sloppy kiss and bodies connecting in even sloppier humping. 

Sam was thankful for Eric’s weight holding him up against the wall, as he felt rather dizzy from it all. He wrapped both arms around Eric, dropping them to his ass to pull him even closer. Eric’s fingers dug into Sam’s hips, holding him in place, and there was no hope anymore of slowing down. Not that Sam would have wanted to. They stopped kissing in favor of gasping for breath as they got closer and closer. Sam groaned, desperate to come. He slid one hand over, slipping one finger just deep enough to tease at Eric’s hole, which was the last straw for Eric. With a whimper, he jerked and came, biting at Sam’s collarbone just a little too painfully. Sam shouted, his own release unstoppable. 

They both stood motionless, their breathing and pulses eventually slowing as the increasingly cold water washed the mess away. Once it became almost unbearably frigid, Eric pulled away and bent down to turn off the tap. When he straightened, he looked at Sam. They held eye contact, and then both broke into wide grins about the same time. 

Eric climbed out of the shower first, grabbing a towel for himself and holding another back out for Sam. They both dried off quickly, and Sam looked down at his clothes from work that day. He had absolutely no desire to put them back on at the moment. 

“God, I’m exhausted,” Eric observed, yawning. 

“Must have been that five-mile run,” Sam said dryly.

“Obviously.”

“Take a nap,” Sam suggested gently. 

Eric looked at him then. “Bed’s big enough for two.”

Sam smiled, more tempted than Eric probably realized. But he was also starting to feel a bit regretful about their recent actions. Not because he hadn’t wanted to _obviously_ , but because Eric really did look beat, and he was holding himself more stiffly than he should have been considering what they had just been up to, and he was favoring his shoulder in particular. 

“Don’t want to jostle you too much.” 

Eric rolled his eyes, apparently not aware how in tune Sam was to him. “I’m almost completely – ”

“I’ll wait for your doctor’s assessment on that.”

“We just – !” Eric flung his arm out towards the shower and immediately hissed in pain.

“What was that?” Sam asked triumphantly, raising his eyebrows. 

“Ugh, I don’t want you in my bed anyway,” Eric countered, not very believably. 

“Go lie down, and I’ll bring you a pill.”

He must have been hurting even more than Sam had suspected, because Eric didn’t put up much more of a fight. Sam wrapped the towel around his waist, walking out to the kitchen. When he made his way back to the bedroom, he found Eric already under the covers, propped up on some pillows, his eyes closed. 

“Here, take this.”

Eric opened one eye, sat up, and took the items Sam handed him.

“Do you have some sweats or something I can wear?” Sam asked, as Eric swallowed the pill.

He waved his free hand over at a dresser. “Bottom drawer.”

Sam took the glass back, finishing off the remaining water in it. He walked over to the dresser, pulled open the drawer and spotted a rather haphazard mess of exercise clothes and sweats. He pulled out a shirt and some pants, then straightened up. He glanced over at Eric. He couldn’t tell if he was asleep already, or if he was pretending in some kind of petulant punishment. Sam smiled, slipping out of the room quietly, just in case. 

Stepping back into the bathroom, he hung up the used towels to dry and pulled on the clothes he borrowed. The pants were a touch too short, and the shirt was just a little tight across his shoulders. He glanced in the mirror and smiled at his reflection. He bent forward to see better, pressing his fingers against the red mark on his collarbone. It wasn’t defined enough to be clearly teeth marks, and it was already starting to fade, so Sam predicted it wouldn’t be noticeable at work the next day. Still, he was glad it was low enough for his clothes to cover. When he straightened, he dropped his hand lower, running a finger over the numbers stitched across the maple leaf on his chest. He smiled again, then left the bathroom. 

He sat down on the couch. Really, he didn’t expect Eric to wake up for hours, so he probably should just go home, get some work done or something. But he didn’t want to leave. He told himself if was because he wanted to be there in case Eric really did overdo it and needed help later. Mostly it was because his own apartment seemed pretty damn empty whenever he was there instead of at Eric’s. So, he’d stay. He could turn on the TV. He could sign into Eric’s laptop and check his email. But frankly, he was tired too. So, he stretched out on the couch to take a nap himself. 

Sometime later, he jolted awake. It took him a few moments to realize it was because Eric was in the room. He had turned on a lamp in the corner, the bright glow cutting through the darkness. Sam watched as Eric pulled the blinds shut, then as he walked back towards the couch. He sat down on the edge and Sam shifted to give him space. Eric leaned forward and put his phone on the coffee table.

“Pizza will be here in a half hour,” he said. 

“Oh, good, I’m starving.”

Eric nodded. He looked down, smiling at Sam. 

“What?” Sam asked, somewhat warily.

“I like seeing you in that,” Eric explained, nodding at the shirt. 

Sam felt a bit embarrassed, remembering how he had maybe purposely picked that shirt instead of any of the other generic ones. He remembered how he had admired it in the mirror. He shrugged, trying to downplay it.

“You can wear my stuff anytime,” Eric said softly. Then he tilted his head to the side, making a clicking noise out the corner of his mouth. “Or not wear anything, preferably.” 

He didn’t give Sam a chance to respond. Instead, he repositioned himself, starting to lie down on the couch as well. Sam turned onto his side to make room. 

“Careful,” Sam instructed. “Careful.”

“I’m not going to break,” Eric told him, somewhere between indulgent and annoyed. 

With that, he laid down fully. Sam settled behind him, sighing.

“You never explained why you licked my face.”

Sam chuckled, rubbing at his eye before wrapping his arm around Eric’s waist and pulling him just a bit snugger.

“Remember when we first met?”

“Vividly.”


	6. Chapter 6

Eric opened the door, then pointed at the cell phone before Sam could say anything. Sam smiled in greeting instead and stepped inside. 

“Thank you very much,” Eric said into the phone, as he closed the door. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

He hung up, turning his whole focus onto Sam. He leaned forward, giving him a quick kiss hello.

“Who was that?”

“Director for _The Penalty Box_.” At Sam’s small headshake and shrug, Eric added, “It’s a hockey talk show.”

“Really?” 

Sam seemed excited, but Eric didn’t share the feeling, and he knew that Sam probably would be less thrilled once he knew more about it. Eric sat on the couch, tilting his head back with a sigh. He smiled when Sam sat next to him, and he made a little happy noise when Sam’s fingers started threading through his hair. 

“First place that even gave a little nibble, and it’s on the west coast.” 

Sam’s fingers stopped moving for a fraction of a second, just barely long enough for Eric to know his next statement wasn’t as casually supportive as Sam actually felt. 

“So, how’d the call go? Are they going to fly you out for an interview or something?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eric replied. He sat up, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs. He let his head fall down, sighing when Sam’s hand moved down to start massaging at the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Wouldn’t take it if they offered.”

“Why not?”

Eric turned his head to the side to look at Sam, somewhat incredulously. “This is my home. I was lucky to get to play here. I didn’t want to leave it to play hockey; I sure as hell am not going to leave it for some talking head job. I don’t want to leave my family and friends. Or _you_.”

Sam shrugged, not quite meeting Eric’s eyes. “Probably not wise to commit to the first guy you sleep with.”

Eric blinked. He sat up and turned to face Sam more directly. “You’re not the first,” he reminded Sam, “and we haven’t actually slept together yet.” He closed his eyes, nodding once. “Not all the way. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Sam confirmed. “And you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” Eric countered. If he were honest, he was getting kind of tired of conversations that seemed to take turns like this. He didn’t know why Sam always seemed to think that Eric wasn’t as deep in this as he was. “You are constantly looking for reasons to end this.”

Sam apparently couldn’t ignore the challenge, and he made eye contact then. “Maybe I’m just trying to do it before you do.”

“What makes you think I’m going to?” Eric wanted to be gentle and understanding, like Sam always was when Eric was freaking out over something, but he just didn’t know how to. At least he wasn’t as aggressive and argumentative as he could have been.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted.

Eric smiled, relieved to feel like he won that one. “Well…I’m not going to. If I can’t get a TV job around here, then I’ll think of something else. Because I _plan_ to commit to the first guy who ever made me realize there was something more important than hockey.”

Sam’s eyes softened, even as a wide smile started to spread across his face. Eric enjoyed it for a moment, but couldn’t resist going for the joke. 

“I mean, not _much_ more important, because we are talking about hockey, but – ”

“OK,” Sam interrupted, nodding in a long-suffering kind of way, but he still was smiling. “Quit while you’re still just barely ahead.”

Eric laughed and leaned into kiss him. Sam met him halfway. When the network called back a few days later, Eric didn’t think twice about turning down the offer.

**

There were better places to make a phone call than standing at the corner of a busy intersection, but Sam had gone back and forth on whether he wanted to actually make it for the last several days. And after his last meeting, on his way back to his office, he just decided to do it. Right then. He wrapped his arm around his stomach and waited for Eric to answer.

“Hey.”

“Hi, are you busy later?”

“I’m never busy.”

The slight whine made Sam smile. He didn’t waste time on any pleasantries, just forced out what he wanted to say, something he had been keeping to himself for a while. “So, my lease is up in a couple months, and I don’t want to keep paying rent. I’ve been touring houses, and there’s one I like and want to go back to. Do…you want to come with?” To downplay any possible interpretation that Sam wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to insinuate, he quickly added, “Wouldn’t mind a second opinion. Or someone to spot – I don’t know, water damage or something.”

There was a noticeable pause, but Eric simply said “Sure.”

Sam gave him a time and address, yet was still strangely relieved when Eric actually arrived. The realtor wasn’t there yet, so Sam was waiting out front. As he walked over to Eric’s car, Eric climbed out, putting on his sunglasses and looking around at the surrounding houses. 

Sam looked too, although he had already scoped out the neighborhood before. There was an older couple across the street, who might have an adult son that was visiting last time Sam was there. And a couple doors down was a single mother with a brat of a kid. An old guy on the corner, who seemed to spend his days smoking a pipe on the porch. Some garages around the back, and old trees casting shadows and dropping leaves all over the damn place. It was maybe a rougher neighborhood than some of his friends or colleagues would have expected from him, but he liked it, at least more than the cookie-cutter emptiness of his apartment building.

“The realtor should be here in a few minutes,” he said by way of greeting. 

Eric nodded and followed him over to the house. Sam watched with some amusement as Eric continued his silent assessment, kicking at the foundation and testing out the stairs. When he looked up at the roof with a frown and hummed, Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you even know anything about home maintenance?”

“What, you think because I like screwing dudes, I can’t – ”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned away. “All the same, I think I’ll have an appraiser come out.”

“Needs a new roof,” was Eric’s only reply. Sam snorted, making Eric grin.

“That kid’s trouble,” Eric observed then, tilting his head towards the sound of a tantrum. 

Sam nodded, raising his eyebrows in agreement. But they couldn’t talk much more, as the realtor pulled up and hopped out of her car. As she got closer, Sam reached out and shook her hand, then gestured at Eric.

“This is…” He realized he had no idea how to introduce him and finally just said, “Eric.” 

There was a loaded moment which confirmed she read between the lines, and then just shook Eric’s hand. She led them to the door then, and Sam glanced at Eric as they followed. Eric raised his eyebrows pointedly, making Sam shrug. 

Eric, thankfully, didn’t continue with his exaggerated inspection, but he did ask some good questions that Sam would have never thought of. Mostly, he just held back, letting Sam do the talking. Sam did catch him admiring certain rooms or features, though, and he was pretty sure Eric liked the place as much as he did. Not that – not that it really mattered. It was Sam’s investment, after all. 

Eventually, they wrapped up, and the realtor left them alone in the front yard again. Sam crossed his arms, looking up at the house pensively. 

“What do you think?” he asked Eric.

“It’s a nice house.”

His tone was entirely impossible to read. Truthful, but impersonal, and Sam kind of wanted to smack him. 

“It will need some work,” he said instead, “but I kind of like the idea of fixing it up a bit.”

Eric nodded. He looked down, toed at the ground with one foot, and hummed. “Could put more down, or even buy it outright, if we went halfsies.”

Sam felt like he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t like he had been entirely subtle with the whole thing, but now that it was said aloud, he began to panic. An imagined little dream was entirely different from a possible reality, and he didn’t know if the thought that it wouldn’t come true was scarier than the thought that it would. 

“A little early to be suggesting that, don’t you think?”

He sensed Eric turn to look at him, but he didn’t return the eye contact. 

“I want you to feel comfortable wherever I live,” Sam continued, feeling breathless, “but – ”

“I want to live with you,” Eric interrupted. He waited a moment, but when Sam only opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, he kept talking. “You could fix the place up however you want, and I could do the yardwork, and – we’ve known each other for a while. It’s not too early.”

Sam breathed out a laugh, and finally looked at Eric, shooting him a pointed look. “We’ve barely started dating,” he reminded him. 

“I wouldn’t say barely. And I don’t care. Do you?”

No, said Sam’s heart. Yes, said Sam’s brain. He really hated his brain. 

“I need to think about it.”

After a pause, Eric said, “OK.”

He sounded disappointed. Sam turned to him, watching him for a moment. He breathed in deeply, so tempted to change his mind right then. Hell, there’d been a reason he wanted Eric to see the place. He knew what he was asking him, and _Eric_ knew what he was asking him, so why did he now – 

“Thank you for suggesting it, though,” he managed to say. 

Eric leaned forward, dropping a quick kiss on his lips right out in the open, for all the neighbors to see. So…that answered at least one of his unasked questions and unspoken concerns. Sam smiled, ducking his head.

**

“Question for you,” Sam said, picking up his coffee and moving to a table in the back corner of the shop. “When is it, um, too soon to move in with someone?”

He rushed through the question, kind of like ripping a band-aid off or something. But unfortunately, Brenda didn’t pick up on the hint and took her sweet time answering. He had sat down and started preparing his drink, taking the lid off and reaching out for the pot of creamers. In all that time, Brenda just stared at him with a slightly knowing, slightly teasing smirk.

“You’re asking a lesbian this, you realize,” she joked.

Sam rolled his eyes and chose not to respond.

“By the way,” she scolded, “you still haven’t told me anything about this guy, who I assume is also the one who speaks French to you. So, we cannot discuss your little freak-out here until you actually give me some details. 

Sam sighed and pulled at his collar. He took a sip to stall for time. “His name is Eric. I met him through work.”

“Another lawyer?”

“No,” Sam said, significantly.

Brenda stared at him, then gasped. “A client? An _athlete_?” she hissed. “Sam! What about your _rules_?”

Sam smiled, looking down at his hand as he slid the cardboard circle up and down his cup. “He made me want to break them.”

It was cheesy, but it was true. Brenda made a slight gagging sound, prompting Sam to glare at her. 

“Eric, huh?” she continued speculatively. “If I knew anything about sports…”

Sam looked around the shop as surreptitiously as possible. There was no one close and no one there seemed to be paying any attention to them. Regardless, he leaned in conspiratorially. 

“McNally,” he muttered.

“I…recognize the name.”

“Brenda.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “From the Leafs.”

Brenda looked at him for a second. Then she sat up straight, laughing uproariously. Sam put his hand out, trying to shush her. People were definitely looking at them now. Sam put his elbow on the table and rested his face in his hand.

Once she calmed and – thankfully – everyone ignored them again, she leaned forward. “When you break the rules, you go big, don’t you?”

“You _cannot_ tell anyone.”

“Who would believe me?”

Sam furrowed his brow, feeling vaguely insulted.

“And to answer your question,” Brenda added, “you pretty much have to move in with him. You’re never going to do better.”

Now he definitely felt insulted. He picked up a sugar packet and threw it at her.

**

“Knock, knock,” Eric said softly, not actually knocking on the door as he leaned into the hospital room. “Joanie?”

She turned to him, clearly still tired and out of it. The baby in her arms was fussing a bit, but Eric could only see blanket. He stepped closer, lifting his head to try and get a glimpse of his new nephew. 

“You finally made it.”

“Oh, come on,” Eric joked. “I wasn’t going to show up when there was still a risk of seeing things I don’t want to. Here, I’ll switch you.”

He held up the present and bouquet in his arms to indicate his meaning. 

“Oh God,” Joanie replied, exaggerating her fear. “Just be careful. Don’t drop him.”

“I’m not going to drop him.”

He wasn’t one hundred percent confident on that, actually, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. He placed the gifts on her lap and slowly, carefully picked up the newborn. The baby mewled a bit but thankfully didn’t start crying. Eric repositioned him slightly to feel more comfortable and then just watched him for a while.

“I officially like one kid,” he said. “But don’t let him turn into a jackass or I’ll have to take that back.”

Joan didn’t bother to respond to that. Instead, she turned her attention to the gift, tearing at the badly taped newspaper. 

“You clearly wrapped this.”

“Don’t listen to your mother; I am an excellent wrapper.”

She snorted, holding up the Leafs onesie. “You also clearly bought this.” 

“It’s adorable and you know it. It’s his first sweater.”

“And last, if I have anything to say about it.”

“Fair enough. Not sure a kid named Henry is cut out for hockey, anyway.”

“Ha ha. I’d fight you for that, but I’m more curious as to who bought these flowers.”

“I did!” 

“OK…and who told you to buy them?”

Eric shifted his focus from the baby to his sister. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“In your life, I have never known you to buy flowers. For any reason. Ever.”

With a sigh, Eric gave in. Sort of. “A friend of mine suggested I get you some.”

His tone must have revealed more than he meant to. She raised an eyebrow in intrigue. 

“This is not the time to talk about that,” he said, trying to shut her down.

And it really wasn’t. He had no intention of bringing this up that day, when she’d just pushed a human out of her. Frankly, he kind of never wanted to bring it up with her, although he knew that was unlikely. He’d be living with Sam sooner or later, sooner if he had his way. There were so many people in his life that he couldn’t or wouldn’t tell about Sam, that he would never be able to introduce Sam to. And Sam had accepted that, he had understood. But Joan was his sister. His _sister_. If he couldn’t – 

Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t know already anyway. 

He knew he was starting to freak out a bit, and he wondered if the baby picked up on his increased pulse or breathing or the way he stiffened up or something. The kid started crying, little kitten-like wails that were too cute to be annoying, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. 

“OK, take him back,” Eric said instead. “I don’t do crying.”

Joan shook her head, reaching out so Eric could deposit the baby in her arms. Then, he turned away slightly, looking around the room and hoping she’d let things go. 

“What friend is this?” she asked. “I’d like to send my thanks.”

“Do you want me to put these somewhere?” he asked hurriedly, reaching out for the items in her lap.

He didn’t wait for an answer. Picking them up, he brought them over to the counter by the window. He set them down, then stared outside for a moment or two. Oh, what the hell. 

“Sam,” he said. There, he started and there was no reason not to finish now. He faced Joanie, offering her a quick smile as he ran his hand through his hair. He sat in the chair next to the bed, breathing out deeply. “You met him once. When I was here.”

She nodded once, giving him a meaningful glance before focusing on the baby and letting him relax. “The lawyer?” she asked, all fake casual. Like he was skittish and she didn’t want to scare him away. Which…OK, fair.

“Yeah, yeah. He’s a lawyer. Sports lawyer. He helped me out with, with my contracts and my retirement, you know. We became friends.”

Damn it, he was babbling. Sure sign of nerves, and Joanie knew it. 

“I thought he seemed nice.”

“He is,” Eric confirmed, a little too quickly considering her statement had been so neutral. “I – think you two would get along. I’d…I’d like you to meet.”

Joanie beamed at him. “I’d be happy to. I mean, maybe not for a while, because…you know. I just pushed a human out of me.”

Eric laughed, nodding in understanding. He stood, using the statement as an excuse. “Yeah, which is why I’m going to leave you alone now. Get some rest. I’ll check on you later.”

He leaned over her, kissing her forehead before putting one hand over the baby and smiling. He almost made it out of the room before he came to an unexpected stop just by the door. He could not bring himself to actually leave, not yet, not without – 

As if possessed, he reached out and grabbed the knob, pulling the door shut for privacy. Then, he faced Joan, who was looking back at him with rather surprised confusion.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Eric blurted, feeling sort of like he was going to puke immediately after it came out, but he barked a laugh instead, looking around the room wildly before his eyes landed on her again. “That’s the first time I said that.”

Joanie held up a hand to her mouth, closing her eyes. Her response concerned him at first until she reached the same hand out to wave him back to her and revealed that she was grinning broadly. He closed the distance back to the bed and she wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him down into a hug. She kissed his cheekbone.

“I love you, Eric,” she whispered. “And I can’t wait to meet him.”

Eric nodded, not quite able to speak yet. He swallowed a couple times past the lump in his throat. 

He was still a little messed up about everything later that evening, when he arrived at Sam’s apartment. Despite the lack of notice, Sam of course welcomed him inside happily. Eric looked around, smiling at the little things that just screamed Sam – the paperwork on his table, a glass of wine next to it, the framed picture of the two of them on a side table that was just innocent enough he could pass it off as a platonic pose with a client if he needed to, three or four half-read books on the coffee table. Sam was still dressed from work, but his tie was loose and his sleeves were rolled up. His hair was a little unruly, like he had been scratching his fingers through it. 

Everything about it was everything he wanted, and he didn’t want to spend one more day living apart from him. But he already knew that. He just needed to convince Sam. But first, he needed to kiss him. He stepped closer, placing both hands on Sam’s cheeks and drawing him into a slow, sweet kiss. 

“Hi,” Sam said, chuckling a bit when Eric let him go.

“Joanie says thanks for the flowers,” Eric said. “She wants to have you over to thank you, after she recovers a bit.”

Sam stared at him, mouth open and completely frozen except for his blinking eyes. Finally, he gave just a tiny shake of his head. “You told your sister about me.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Eric nodded anyway. “I want you to know each other.”

Sam looked down, but Eric could still see his lips moving as he fought a smile. He lost that battle, looking up at Eric with a wide grin. 

“I’ve had these…rules. About men and relationships and all that,” he said, somewhat unexpectedly. Eric nodded, waiting for him to continue. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what that was like, rules about men, but he wasn’t entirely sure where Sam was going with this. “Since I’ve met you, I’ve broken every single one. But I…I had trouble getting past the reasons why I thought they were necessary. I’ve had a hard time accepting that all this – that you really – they accepted the offer on the house.”

Eric blinked, his brain doing a little record-scratch at the last bit, not quite following the change in topic. “…OK?”

Sam heaved a breath. “Do you want to buy it with me?”


	7. Chapter 7

Things happened surprisingly fast, after that. All the paperwork got signed, and money got spent on breaking Eric’s lease and buying some new furniture on top of everything for the house, and movers got called. Somewhere in there, Eric had another interview, this time with a show right in Toronto. Sam took him out for dinner in celebration, to a real restaurant, which was awkward and strange but not unbearable. Their first official week in the house, when all the furniture was set up but surrounded by boxes being slowly unpacked and organized, Eric went to the doctor for a final follow-up. When he came home, he found Sam in the bedroom, hanging up clothes. 

Before he could speak, Sam heard him or sensed his presence. He glanced over his shoulder at Eric and smiled. “How was the appointment?”

“Approved for all physical activity. Except playing professional ice hockey, of course.”

Sam whooped a tiny cheer. “Good, you can start by helping me unpack some of this.”

Eric stared at him rather incredulously. He wondered if Sam were serious. And then he walked over in two large steps, grabbing Sam and pulling him into a passionate kiss. The clothes in his hand dropped, landing on their feet, as Sam wrapped his arms around him. 

When they separated, both were breathing a little heavier. “Or we could…” Eric hinted.

“Right,” Sam replied, nodding a bit like a bobblehead doll. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

He was pretty sure he stepped on the clothes, but at least he didn’t trip over them, or his own as he tore them off. In an unbelievably – or perhaps totally believably – short time, they were both more or less naked. Eric fell onto the mattress with a slight bounce, laughing as he crab-crawled and Sam followed him until they were better positioned. Then, Sam lowered onto him, and while things stopped being quite so funny, he still was grinning so wide, he could barely kiss him. He didn’t know how they waited for this so long. Not that they waited patiently, or for everything, but still. He had sped home, thinking of nothing else except for when he remembered almost too late to stop off at the store and buy – 

“Shit,” he said.

Sam backed up in alarm. “What?”

Eric tried to push him away enough to roll out from under him. “I bought – in my coat, there’s – ”

“There’s some in the drawer,” Sam said. At Eric’s look, he smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “First thing I unpacked.”

Eric fell back onto the bed, laughing again. “Thank God, didn’t want to stop.”

Sam nodded, closing the distance between them and kissing him again. They slowed down a bit, even as their movements intensified. Eric was breathing heavily, slightly dazed from everything by the time Sam reached out and actually got the things from the drawer. And as much as he wanted it, perhaps because he wanted it so much, that’s when Eric started panicking. He scooted farther up the mattress a bit, shuddering when the movement caused him to drag along Sam a bit in just the right away.

“Should I stay like this or turn over?” he asked, more than aware that his voice revealed his nerves. 

Sam glanced at him, smiling as he continued to work on opening and organizing…everything. He waited just a little too long to answer, though, and Eric _had to_ fill the silence. 

“I’ve seen it both ways on…educational videos,” he explained, ignoring the way that Sam snorted in response. “But I’m not sure which is easier for a – a rookie, and frankly those videos are fake and kind of alarming anyway. I mean, I don’t think anything that size could fit up there, anyway. Not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, but – ”

Sam shifted closer, covering Eric’s body again and pushing him down onto the mattress. He propped himself above Eric with one elbow and reached the other hand down between his legs, nudging them apart.

“You can stay like this,” he answered calmly. Eric exhaled, holding eye contact and gripping Sam’s shoulder, trying to relax as Sam pressed inside him farther than he ever had before and certainly farther than Eric had ever dared when he tried it out on himself. “I want to see you.”

“I want to see you too,” Eric said, voice giving out slightly when Sam’s finger pulled out and pushed back in. 

Sam kissed him again, his tongue stroking into Eric’s mouth in much the same way his hand was moving below, and the dual sensations made Eric settle even more. He was just starting to get into everything, to get used to the feelings and – 

“Jesus, what the fuck?” he nearly shouted, his eyes opening wide.

“That was your prostate,” Sam replied, his amusement doing little to hide how rough his voice was with arousal.

“Gonna fucking come.”

Sam, that bastard, moved around, placing his other hand on Eric’s cock and squeezing just enough to take the edge off. Eric didn’t know whether to thank him or cuss him out, but he didn’t get the opportunity to do either. He was pretty much past any sort of ability to speak anyway. Instead, he clung to Sam, gasping as Sam continued to prepare him. Those sounds turned to choked-out groans when Sam switched to sliding his cock in instead. He went slowly, letting Eric adjust, gently reminding him to breathe occasionally. And, OK, they hadn’t fully stuck to Sam’s dumb “have to wait for your doctor to say it’s OK” rule, but Sam’s fingers and tongue had not come close to preparing him for…this. It was unbearable and amazing and Eric’s mind was pretty damn blown. 

Once Sam slotted inside him fully, he shifted onto his elbows, looking down at Eric with questioning eyes. Eric managed a smile to let Sam know he was fine. Better than fine, especially when he began to move. Eric wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him down into a kiss. Each rocking thrust produced a grunt, a whimper, a whine from one or both of them. He could barely hear Sam’s noises over his own, at least not until Sam broke the kiss and buried his face in the groove of Eric’s neck. His unsteady, heavy breathing was loud near Eric’s ear, and it just spurred Eric on. He dug his nails into Sam’s back, sliding his hands down to his ass to grope at him and pull him deeper. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eric moaned, when Sam twisted to hook one arm under Eric’s knee and reposition his leg, opening him up in a way that Eric didn’t think he actually could bend without causing some kind of permanent damage. 

He forgot all about that, though, when Sam’s hand returned to Eric’s cock. This time, he was clearly attempting to make Eric come as soon as possible rather than get him to hold off. Eric threw one arm back, gripping the top edge of the mattress as their movements became wild. The bed rocked, the mattress squeaked, and Eric hadn’t realized until that moment how great it was that they no longer shared walls with neighbors. He shouted out loud when his orgasm finally hit, and seconds later, he felt Sam tense up then relax with his own release. 

They held still for a beat, and then Sam reached down, holding the condom as he slowly pulled out and earned another groan from Eric at the sensation. 

Sam rolled to the side, as always too polite to actually collapse on him. Stretched out next to each other, they both slowly calmed. Eric stared at the ceiling of their new bedroom, trying to collect himself. It wasn’t like he’d never had an excellent orgasm before. With men and even with women, the few times he tried to convince himself it was what he wanted, to be just like the other guys on the team. He knew, intellectually, that it wasn’t _that_ special or different. 

But damn.

Damn.

“Huh,” he finally managed to say. He sensed Sam turn his head to look at him. Eric sighed, licked his lips, and swallowed. “Turns out I really am just…totally gay.

Sam burst out laughing. Eric allowed himself a little smile at the response, although he tried to be deadpan when Sam rolled over to face him again. 

“That’s good to know,” Sam said. 

Eric turned to his side, so they could be face to face. They stared at each other, smiling lightly and eventually turning serious. Eric blinked, feeling like he should say something, wanting to say something more, something meaningful, but – 

“Je t'aime,” Sam said, pronouncing it almost correctly.

Eric grinned. “Practicing that?” he teased.

Sam shrugged, but he was clearly kind of nervous. Eric didn’t really know why. They lived together now, and he just let Sam put his cock up his ass. He kind of figured that all that was understood, that Sam knew that Eric felt that way about him too. But he supposed he could say it, if Sam wanted. 

“I love you, Sammy.”

Sam smiled widely but he thankfully went with the sarcasm strategy that Eric had chosen himself. 

“Sammy?”

“You don’t like it?”

Sam shrugged. “Billy’s the only one who’s ever called me it.” 

Well, hell. At times like this, he didn’t think either one of them wanted Sam to be thinking of his brother. He just would never call him that ag – 

“I like it from you,” Sam said. 

Oh. OK. “Good.”

Sam nodded. “Good.”

Eric shifted closer, cuddling against Sam as he felt himself start to drift off. He knew they probably should clean up a bit. And he knew that Sam would eventually convince or maybe force him to help unpack stuff later. For now, he just wanted this.

“Great,” he mumbled. “This is going to be great.”

**

It was great. Well, most of the time. Not all the time. Especially not when Eric got the job at the station. The more their house became a home, the more isolated it began to feel and the more all those old insecurities started niggling again. Sam wasn’t allowed to put pictures of Eric in his office. He wasn’t allowed to go to Eric’s work. He wasn’t allowed to touch him in public, not even (or especially not) during dates which were almost always held at sports bars. Eric was constantly doing chores for all their neighbors, who all clearly knew and accepted them or at least pretended to, and yet the kisses on their porch as they went to their separate cars started to become less frequent. Which would have been fine. Sam knew what he had signed up for. He had agreed to the compromise. Hell, he’d been the one to suggest it, because he wanted to be with Eric so badly. But it…grated. It grated so much that it started to affect how they were behind closed doors as well. There were fewer nights where they stayed up all night, screwing each other senseless. There were fewer times Eric’s sister came over, and even then, it wasn’t like they were all that affectionate in front of her, even though she was in the know. Sam rarely told Eric he loved him anymore, and he couldn’t remember the last time Eric had said the words first. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure Eric ever had.

Most of the time, he clung to the small things, the ways Eric made it clear he noticed Sam and appreciated him and _cared_. How he never left his clothes on the floor like he had back when he lived alone, and most of the time remembered not to bring his gear inside after his pick-up games. How he would put a little more effort into his appearance when they went _out_ -out, spruced himself up a little bit nicer than those damned sports bars really required. How he’d save ads for vintage shops and estate sales and help Sam bring the purchases in, pretending to be interested when Sam talked about what he wanted to do with the house next. How he was more than interested, no pretending involved, when Sam started buying fancier sheets. How he’d pour a glass of wine for Sam when he got home, learning and remembering which glasses to use for the different kinds, even if he didn’t ever bother to make dinner. How he called him Sammy and sometimes Samuel and the tone of his voice whenever he did, sometimes teasing and seductive, sometimes soft and loving, frequent enough to forget about the times when the tone was angry or annoyed. How he gave him Hanukkah gifts ever year, when the whole damn world was obsessing over Santa. How he tilted his head closer and just ever so slightly loosened up all over when Sam reached out to thread his fingers through his hair. How he flopped all over him on the couch, muting the TV and turning the captions on so Sam could read without distraction, at least until Eric started yelling at his former teammates as if they could hear him. How he – the increasingly rare times they _were_ together – whispered roughly in French, begging Sam to let him come. 

Sometimes, it was great. But sometimes, it was hard to remember that, and Sam thought he’d trade all those little signs that he had to seek out for one damn time where Eric didn’t hold anything back at all, or even just for him to be as open and considerate as he could be when they first started. And so, when Sam got the call and realized what Child Services might ask of them, it almost seemed like a test. How would Eric respond to it? Kids had never been on the table for them, and neither of them really were that torn up about it. But it was the right thing to do. The kid didn't deserve to suffer any more than he already had just because Sam’s brother was an asshole. But Sam would need Eric to really step up and be his partner in it. He knew Eric well enough to know that he wouldn’t agree easily, that he would fight it. Sam would give him some time to get there. But if Eric didn’t or couldn’t or wouldn’t get there…it might be time to rethink things. He didn’t need Eric to profess his love on TV or anything, but he did need _more_ from him. He needed to be more than what they had slowly started to become – two guys who lived in the same house and occasionally fucked. 

So, for the very first time, Sam went to Eric’s office. Nula, the woman he’d only ever talked to over the phone, showed him in with a smile and a wink. Sam looked around, not quite rolling his eyes at the décor, such as it was. And he waited. 

Eric walked in, tilting his head in a wary greeting. Sam couldn’t stop himself from snarking about the memorabilia that had vomited all over Eric’s office and all the other ones he saw as Nula had led him down the hall.

“You’ve met everyone here?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound unoffended. “I told them I was your lawyer. I mean, I was your lawyer.”

And soon, he told him about Julie. He had to remind Eric who she was, unsurprisingly. But he agreed to leave. He put the files in his arms down and grabbed his coat, indicating Sam should lead the way out of the office. 

It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t enough yet. But it was a gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone and especially thanks to those of you who commented! More appreciated than you know. 
> 
> I wanted to put some of my thought process down here. You guys, as much as I love Eric (and I do), I find Sam far more fascinating, even if he’s comparatively underdeveloped (how did a guy who had at least some disdain for or at least lack of interest in sports become a lawyer for athletes, for example?). One of the more common criticisms I saw in reviews of this movie was that Eric and Sam didn’t seem like a couple or even like they liked each other all that much. Maybe it’s because my own parents were pretty similar at home (and yes, they’ve had problems but they’ve also been married for 40+ years), but I’ve never bought into the idea that you must be lovey-dovey if you love someone. Maybe also because of my history and experience with slash fandom, I’ve always treasured more personal & specific character beats to show the depth of a relationship, the things that seem like a real couple who knew each other very well would do, rather than just relying on kissing scenes or nudity to fake chemistry. I thought those “subtle” things were beautifully done in the movie. Sure, maybe if it came out now, they’d be more comfortable with showing more explicit intimacy, but I think it was just as much or more about the characterization as it was about any hesitation about having too much Gay Stuff. And that characterization angle is what’s incredibly interesting to me. Not to mention, their level of being out was so weirdly contradictory as well – the neighbors and some coworkers and other community members knew, while other people didn’t, and no one who found out apparently leaked anything to the press, and yet on the other hand if RYAN knew he was called Erica, then it must have been speculated on or even an open secret among fans as well as players. It’s weird. BUT ANYWAY. Being not affectionate/discreet/mostly closeted/whatever is fine if that’s what works for a couple, and it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other, but it is or can be a problem when one wants more, as Sam clearly did. So why did he put up with it? He was clearly frustrated and resentful and often hurt by Eric’s internalized issues, but also relatively reserved himself. He clearly wanted to push Eric further and work things out, not end it, and he must have known what he was getting into, even if like I have him do so here, he resisted and protected himself for a long time before finally deciding being with Eric was worth the drawbacks. So, all of these thoughts led me to speculate: maybe a small part of the Scot thing was him looking for "signs" if this kind of behind-closed-doors-only relationship was (still) enough for him, and if Eric could become less selfish and scared in order to truly be there for someone else. And Eric almost failed that “test” several times, but came through in the end. 
> 
> So, I have two more fics in a little trilogy planned. The one I am working on now is set during the movie, exploring some of the scenes more deeply and filling in some of the blanks for Sam particularly, and the third, if it ever gets written, will be set after the movie. The writing is going very slow (and this is the part that has material to actually steal from) so I don’t know when these will be finished or posted, but stay tuned!


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